Bad Moon Hell Raisers
by Rastanton94
Summary: The Brotherhood tasks Desmond with watching over two important figures within the order while their caretaker is away. He knows what he's getting into, but his experiences with this new breed of "assassins" may not end well. Why is he truly here remains unanswered. Contains swearing, M/M, sexual situations, and gore in future chapters. COMPLETE
1. Bad Moon Rising

This took me one night to come up with, one week to write down on paper, two days to type up. I don't know how to feel about this story, at all. I don't exactly know where it's going or how it's going to end. But I do know that in my mind, it was the greatest fucking, most cliched thing I have ever come up with. I love and hate this story at the exact same time. So here, I present this to you, chapter one of the Bad Moon Hell Raisers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any of these characters. I apologize in advance if I fuck any of them up.

* * *

Apperton was a small town with a population of roughly one hundred. While it was small, the town itself was spread out around the base of a mountain. Oak trees towered over the town, effectively hiding most of the buildings from sight. It was literally out in the middle of nowhere. It was the best place to hide.

Desmond stepped off the bus, pulling along a large duffle bag containing mostly clothing and whatever else he had managed to fit in. They said he was going to be here for a while, pack what he could fit in a bag or carry. Only a fee other people stepped off the bus behind him, Apperton wasn't exactly a vacation hotspot.

"Desmond!" a voice called out, and he followed it. The caller was nearby, leaning against the side of an old blue and white pick-up. On the door was an insignia of a wolf. _'Ironic'_ the young assassin thought.

"Connor" Desmond greeted, shaking hands with the other man. Connor Kenway, the best damn survivalist in the whole damn Brotherhood. There was no other man like him who had gone on safari five times in one month, fought crocodiles along the Nile, faced dangerous snakes in India, explored the Amazon and befriended a panther. Or so the rumors stated.

Whether they were true or not was all up for Connor to explain, but so far he had yet to do so. Thus every time he so much as even thought about leaving the country, a wildfire of new rumors spread through their bases, and that was even before he bought his plane tickets. Point was, he was very, very good at his job and invaluable to the Brotherhood.

Desmond, on the other hand, couldn't even walk outside without so much as tripping over a ladybug. Why his superiors thought he needed to be out there in the middle of the fucking forest was beyond him. _'But'_ he mused as he threw his bag into the truck bed, _'i'm not here to fight bears or anything like that'_

Oh no, he was here for so much worse.

The two men climbed inside the truck and took off. It was, in Desmond's opinion, a very boring ride through the town. It was just some little town out in the middle of nowhere, hiding in the forest, and doing a damn good job at staying off most maps. Yeah, this was the perfect place for every assassin, really gonna live the dream out here.

Desmond was not here to kill someone, or collect information or even stalk a certain target. No, instead he was here to _babysit. _Quite an uncommon job for most assassins but this type of babysitting went way beyond caring for a toddler for a couple of hours. Instead he was watching over two, full grown men who were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. At least, they were fully capable a few years ago.

Connor was the one that watched over the men since their ill-fated end to assassinating for the Brotherhood, having been forced to retire and be effectively hidden away. Unfortunately, Connor was going away on a much needed trip (no vacation, just business) and someone needed to stay at their place for a while, make sure the men didn't eat each other or something.

Desmond was the only one available for the job. Or rather, the only one they could afford to throw out in the woods for a few weeks…or months, whichever was more convenient for them. His superiors had been extremely careful with this though, not out right telling him what he was going to Apperton for or why these two particular former assassins needed to be watched over. They just asked him what he knew about dogs, wolves mostly but generally everything canine.

It had seemed like an odd question at the time, and they didn't explain much afterwards, only giving him some books on dog care, "read up" they told him. Only after some persistence on his part did they finally tell him what his mission was. That was three days ago; Desmond still could not come to terms with it. He tried not to think about it too much, but the sheer knowledge of what he was going to be living with for a while bothered him. A lot. They told him not to be afraid though, _they'll_ just smell it off him.

_They will smell the fear off him._

He was snapped out of his thoughts when a police cruiser pulled up next to them, the siren going off.

"Aw fuck, what did they do now?" Connor groaned to no one in particular, parking the car and rolling the window down.

"Kenway!" a voice roared at the man next to him, Desmond was more concerned that the cop knew his name than being pulled over. "Do you have any idea as to what they've been _doing_ up there in the last hour?"

"Considering I've been down here for the last couple…I'd have to say…no"

"They're firin those damn cannons again, I could hear 'em from here!"

Desmond blinked. _Cannons?_

"Funny, I've haven't heard anything…"

"It's those shells, boy, I'm worried about those damned shells landin in my damned town. Now you better get up there and make sure they're not pointin 'em our way, we clear?"

"Crystal"

"Good. Now get to it!"

The police cruises sped away and Connor rolled up the window, shaking his head as he shifted the car back into gear. Their journey through town resumed, but Desmond suddenly had a million new questions to ask.

"Cannons?" he inquired.

"We have permits for them. And we always aim them at the mountain anyway" Connor replied simply as if it was no big deal. "'Sides, cannons aren't the only thing they shoot up there" he continued, turning off at an unmarked dirt road. Guns, those crazy bastards had guns. From all the information given to him from his superiors, Desmond questioned whether or not letting _them_ have any weapon in their possession was a good idea or not.

The road split down an empty, dead field, the grass yellowed and crumpled. Half-way down, two signs sat on either side of the road. The first sign read:

**TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT**

and the second sign read:

**SURVIVORS WILL BE FED TO THE DOGS**

Desmond blinked at the second sign.

"You have dogs?" he asked Connor, confused. The other man shook his head.

"Nope"

"Oh….wait-"

"The signs are just for show, nobody takes them seriously. Everybody knows we don't have actual dogs" Connor chuckled. That didn't make Desmond feel any better. Everyone knew? What else did everyone know?

They soon left the signs and the field behind and started a drive through the woods. The trees out here were endless, and it was boring. Desmond stared out the window, fingers idly tapping on the dashboard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something in the side mirror.

Quickly twisting himself around, a coyote trotted out onto the the road, casting a glance at the truck before disappearing into the trees. "We hunt them sometimes, the coyotes. Kinda hard to get a handle on them, they always smell the boys before we get near 'em" Connor spoke up.

"Do they ever come on the farm?"

"Nope, they're too afraid. Everything is too afraid to come near, even the birds"

Desmond nodded, a small prickle of fear jabbing him. Not even the damned wildlife came around. Was it right to be here then? Could he really do this? Who's sick idea was this anyway? They sent him out there to die! _They_ were going to tear him apart, limb by limb, feast on his insides, sharpen their claws on his bones, use his skin as bedding-

"Desmond!" Connor roared in his ear, causing the young assassin to jump. "We're here. Jesus, I've been calling your name for a minute now, snap out of it!"

"Sorry, sorry, my bad" he apologized, looking up to glance around. The farm was pretty…empty looking. A big farmhouse, a small barn, and a field that sat off to the side, small green plants shooting out of the ground. But no animals. No horses, or chickens, pigs or cows, nor lambs or anything. No life whatsoever, the place was practically a ghost town.

"Come on, get out. They already know you're here anyway" Connor said, turning the ignition off and kicking the driver's door open. Desmond shakily exited the vehicle;_ they already knew he was here. _Show no fear his ass, he felt fucking terrified. He almost expected some big, monstrous beast to appear and attack him. But nothing came.

_'Quit being a baby'_ Desmond scolded himself hefting his bag out of the truck bed. Aside from whatever noise he made, all was silent on the farm, No birds could be heard singing, just the rustle of leaves in trees when the wind blew past. The farm was otherwise devoid of sound or life.

So where _were_ they?

Desmond followed Connor away from the truck down a small path, worn away from constant traveling upon it. They passed the barn long the way, and he jumped when he heard the noise. He thought it was a dog growling but there were two things wrong with that; one, they didn't have a dog, and two, the growl was too deep, too _human_.

The barn door was closed, yet the volume of the growls were so loud, it was like he had something right next to him making the noise. It wasn't just growls either, there were whines, moans, hissing, snarling. Animalistic noises that sounded too damn human, but did a pretty good job at scaring his pants off.

"Connor" the young assassin whimpered, instantly regretting it when the noises insides the barn ceased. The man in question had paused, glancing between him and the barn door. Connor said, simply lifting a single finger to his lips, a silent command to be quiet.

He nodded and did so, no need to tell him twice. Silence reigned over the farm again until a snuffling sound broke it. It sounded a hell of a lot closer than all the other noises, as if it was right there on the other side of the door. Whatever it was, it sounded big, _really big._

Desmond had anticipated the barn door to open, except in a more violent and ferocious manner. Instead it eased open, and Altaïr slouched in the entrance. His short brown hair was ruffled, and he only wore a pair of loose fitting pants that barely hung on to his hips.

Fresh scars littered his torso, but the longer Desmond stared at them, the pinker they got until they returned to a normal skin color and practically faded away, as if they were never there in the first place. Oh. No one told him…about…fast…healing….

"Long time no see, cousin" Altaïr growled, the younger man nodding. It had been many, many years since he last saw the Syrian, not since he was entering middle school. Altaïr hadn't really changed much since then. Taller, cut, a real man. And with…a certain condition that made him twice as scary as he probably normally was.

Desmond hadn't been afraid of him before, but now he felt downright intimidated. He knew Altaïr could sense it too, the Syrian was looking him over like a goddamned piece of meat. His nostrils were flaring, eyes narrowed stance…he looked ready to jump. No, _pounce._

The assassin felt like a bug under a microscope, every single detail about him so visible, there was no way of hiding any part of him. There was that feeling in the pit of his stomach knowing that he was being watched, knowing a predator was right in front of him, that nay second he'd be jumped, his throat ripped out, blood gushing everywhere-

"Altaïr!" a man's voice rang out from inside the barn. Altaïr seemed to falter, shoulders slumping, head bowing. It was a complete one-eighty from his arrival only a few seconds ago. He looked more like a kicked puppy than a powerful predator.

"Coming" Altaïr called over his shoulder, turning back to close the door. "Connor, get him settled in, we'll be out in a few" the Syrian instructed, sliding the barn door shut. Connor nodded and pulled Desmond along.

"Word of advice, don't ever, and I mean ever, interrupt them while they're in there. Don't try to walk to near it, and don't make any noise if you can help it. They absolutely do not like being interrupted in the middle of anything, got it?" Connor instructed, frowning at him.

"Got it" Desmond replied weakly. Nothing to worry about in that department, no way in hell he was even going to step outside while he was here, not at all.

He felt safer in the house though. Walking through the door, one found themselves inside the living room. It was sparsely furnished, a large quantity of pillows sat together in the center of the room, enough for a small army or two. A hookah sat on an end table in the corner, and some stairs sat in another. The kitchen was attached to the living room, one of those big screens divided it from the rest of the room.

There wasn't a TV, and very few lamps were around the room. It felt so empty, as is no one really lived there; it was seriously confusing. Connor gave him a quick tour of the place, eventually leading him upstairs. Several doors were up there, all hiding various rooms of various importance.

One was a closet, another the bathroom, and then three bedrooms. The door with the dream catcher on it was Connor's room, "don't go in there". The door that looked absolutely trashed (how it still hung on to its hinges was a miracle) was the boys' room, "never go in there". And the door with nothing on it was to be his room. It just had a basic bed and dresser, and some boxes piled up along the wall, it apparently also served as a storage room. "Don't open the boxes"

There was actually a lot more to this than just being here and not getting killed. Connor had a dull list of "shit he could and could not do unless he wanted to an unpleasant time here" slash "rules you should follow to make sure you don't piss them off".

_They_ couldn't have sugar, "makes them jittery as hell". _They_ couldn't drink milk, "made them sick as hell". He couldn't wear cologne or body spray, just light deodorant. Anything that had a stronger smell than that "gives them headaches from hell". He had to be careful with knives, one drop of blood and _they'd _be all over him like "a fat kid eating a Twinkie".

He could only really shower before going into town, _they_ preferred dirty man smell over "that fruit shampoo shit that also gives them headaches from hell". It was all don't do this, don't do that, wear this, don't wear that, don't fart too loud, just. Stop. Breathing. Connor was either a fucking saint for putting up with this on a daily basis, or the most patient man he had ever met.

'_Then again,_' Desmond though, '_What do I know about caring for fucking werewolves?_'

* * *

I'm going to hell for this. You know where to leave complaints/flames. See you next chapter.


	2. House of wolves

Oh my gosh, people are actually reading this. Thank you guys, thank you. Welp, here it is, chapter 2. I really took my sweet time to type this up, so at last here it is!

Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns all these characters.

Notes: Contain some M/M fluff. Just fair warning anyway, don't act surprised.

* * *

Desmond had never met Malik Al-Sayf before, so it wasn't like he could tell if the man would like or him; or just want to rip his throat out. Soon after the small tour of the house concluded, he and Connor had gone back downstairs to find Altaïr and a man he was unfamiliar with next to him.

Or rather on top of him. The two were a tangle of limbs amongst the pillow, the sight somewhat adorable perhaps if they weren't two of the most dangerous beings on this side of the Mississippi. Or when Desmond walked in, one of them immediately started growling at him. He froze like a deer caught in the headlights, staring wide-eyed at him.

Malik was around Altaïr's size, a tad stockier, dark hair with darker eyes. Stubbly little chin hair, a tan that put supermodels to shame, and muscle. Lots and lots of hard muscle. Since they both didn't wear shirts, it was easy to see them rippling beneath their skin. It was like the beast inside was threatening to break out and run amok.

The skin itself was flawless. No scars, birthmarks, tattoos, nothing. Despite the wrappings around the stump that was Malik's left arm, Desmond doubted there was anything there that needed to be hidden. Hell, the scars that were once on Altaïr's body earlier had yet to make a reappearance. It was like the condition erased otherwise permanent affliction, leaving behind perfection (though it didn't seem like it re-grew limbs*).

But the condition also made them aggressive and hostile. To hear Malik growl like that, it made him shudder. That was the sound _animals_ made when they were about to attack, not a sound _people_ should ever utter. Desmond had merely walked in to the room, they were even waiting for him, and yet he had a two hundred pound predator growling at him.

"Malik, will you chill the fuck out already?" Connor scolded the one-armed man as he came down the stairs behind him. The growls ceased, but didn't mean the instigator was happy about it.

"Good God, look at him! How can I when there's another Altaïr parading about? This is what they sent us? This is our _caretaker"_ Malik all but spat the last word, glaring at Desmond with unmasked displeasure. "You can smell the fear and weakness off him, he reeks of it! Is this honestly what the Brotherhood has working for them these days? I wouldn't be scared of this _pup_ if he came at me with a plastic butter knife!"

Desmond's jaw nearly hit the floor; that was unexpected. '_What the hell is his problem?'_ the young assassin thought. He picked his mouth up long enough to try and at least defend himself, but Malik waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't even bother, pup. I longer I don't have to listen to your rubbish, the better. You have nothing intelligent to say to me anyway"

His mouth slammed shut, eyes wide with disbelief. He glanced at Altaïr and Connor for help, but they didn't look like they were about to jump in and save him. The former had himself wrapped around Malik's torso, face buried in the back of his neck; he really didn't care about what was going on. The latter wasn't even looking at them, he didn't care either!

Desmond was utterly alone; he was his only defense against Malik's tirade. The fucking fuck!

"Connor, go and take the this pup out of my sight, I don't even want to see him until I have absolutely have to" Mailk ordered, turning his head back to nuzzle Altaïr's face. Connor nodded and ushered Desmond out of the room, herding him into the kitchen. He pulled the screen aside, shutting the area off from the rest of the living room.

"What the fuck was that about?" Desmond demanded, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the other man.

"What do you think?"

"What do I think? I think that was rude and uncalled for! What's that guy's problem? I hardly walk into the room and he's already on my case! On top of that, you and Altaïr were no help! What the hell man?"

"Desmond," Connor sighed. "That's just how it works. Malik has always been a prick, even before he changed. All of that was normal, okay? He and Altaïr are alpha. When they speak, you shut your ass and listen. You're the new pup. You stay here, you're part of the pack. They'll pick on you the entire time you're here, it's just what they do"

"But what about you?"

"I've been with them long enough to get most of the heat off me. They still boss me around; I can't tell them to stop though. I do that, they'll kick my ass"

"But-"

"But nothing. Don't try to reason with them, at all. They don't think human most of the time. They eat, sleep, fuck, hunt, and throw their weight around, _it's just what they do_. Get used to it"

Desmond didn't have much of a choice, he was stuck here anyway.

* * *

They weren't particularly picky eaters, but Connor told him that so long as meat was on their plate, they'd eat it. It didn't matter what kind of meat either, or how it was (or wasn't) cooked. As long as it was part of their meal, they would be fine.

"See, they won't really eat much of anything else. Most things make them sick to begin with, so you have to be careful about what you give them. To get them to eat something like…mmm…vegetables, just grind it in with their meat. Serving veggies alone won't work. Malik will ignore it and Altaïr will throw it at you. Uh..be careful with that" Connor explained, pulling out some ground beef from the fridge; Desmond helped him get the food all prepared. He wasn't much of a cook, mixing cocktails was his specialty, but he doubted he'd be giving the boys anything alcoholic.

"Just remember, no sugary cereal crap, or cake, or anything with cream in it, but mostly no. Sugar. Trust me, you do not want to clean up werewolf vomit. Mostly because you don't want to find out what they ate last" Connor added, giving him a hard, stern look.

Desmond wouldn't even dream of it. But there went breakfast, what was he gonna eat every morning? Bacon and eggs? Sure that sounded good and all, but even he would get sick of that after a while. And why did he have to miss out, it was Altaïr and Mailk who couldn't have any of that, not _him_. For big and scary legends of old, they couldn't really do much. From what Desmond had already seen, they just had major anger issues and overly sensitive senses. Oh, and the habit of turing into a fucking wolf every full moon, there was that too.

Still, Desmond never imagined himself mashing peas and corn into ground beef and cooking it. This is what his life had really become in less than five hours, a servant. Wonderful.

As he slapped the meat on a pan on the stove and began to heat it, a whole 'nother problem presented itself, keeping the boys out of the kitchen while he was cooking in there. Something scratched and thumped at the screen making it rattle. Desmond paused in his work to stare at it, almost expecting the screen to be torn apart.

"Keep going, ignore it" Connor said over his shoulder, busy with his own food preparations. Nodding, Desmond tried to focus back on the meat, but the scratching at the screen never ceased. He didn't get it, it was just a wall of fucking plastic, how hard was it to break it down?

Or, just opening it? It took one of them a while, but eventually a hand pushed part of the screen aside, and Altaïr stuck his face in, his nostrils flaring. Desmond was reminded of the scene from Jurassic Park when the T-Rex stuck its face inside the car looking for those kids. Big predator searching for his prey, that sort of thing. Except his prey was hamburger meat and the only thing standing between him and it was Desmond...

"Out"

_shhhhhhk_

Altaïr snarled as the spray of water hit his face, sharp canines bared menacingly. But he retreated, pulling back and whimpering all the way back into the living room proper (and most likely straight to Mailk). Desmond blinked, then glanced back at Connor. The other man had a spray bottle in hand. "Altaïr hates water. You want him to leave you alone, get him wet. It doesn't work on Malik though, it just pisses him off, he'll try to break your arm" he explained, tossing the bottle back onto the counter. Oh yeah, like Desmond would want to make the two hundred pound wolf-man mad. He'd keep that in mind.

* * *

Dinner went smoothly, he supposed. The boys really did eat like animals, faced buried in their plates, tearing at their meat. Desmond had feared they wouldn't like it, toss it across the room or throw it at him, decide he would be a better meal. But no they didn't; they ate it right up and licked their plates clean. That was good, right? It was probably a good sign then.

"Not bad, pup, that meal was almost satisfactory" Malik sneered ar him, lounging back into the pillows with Altaïr. Desmond felt that fear plummet into dread. No, Malik obviously hadn't enjoyed it at all. He wanted to scream in frustration as there was just no pleasing this guy! "Connor, _please_ try and teach him how to prepare my food properly, it's such a hassle going out to catch something when this buffoon messes up a dish" Malik added, glaring at Desmond the entire time.

He clenched his teeth and glared right back, their gazes locking. As much as it frightened him, Desmond refused to break eye contact with the dark haired Syrian. Maliks' eyes were dark and hard, unnerving and petrifying. The longer he stared, a feeling of being hunted rose up inside of him. Desmond trembled under the gaze of such a beast, he was mere prey before him yet nothing was stopping from trying to win this stare off.

"I think that's enough, Desmond" Altaïr broke their silent match, scratching idly at his neck. "It wouldn't hurt to learn some manners too, eh?" he went on, throwing him a look. Desmond finally backed down, looking away so he wouldn't have to deal with both of them.

"Yeah? What happens if I don't then?" he retorted without looking at them.

"I'll make you learn" came the growling reply. Fair enough then.

"Threat acknowledged, shutting up now" he said quickly, and did just that. So far he had done a terrific job of probably pissing them both off and it was only his first _night_ here.

_Fuck._

It was obvious that Altair and Malik really didn't take shit from anyone, and if you valued your life, shut up and listen or die. Desmond didn't think they'd actually try to hurt him, but better safe than sorry and all that. Plus, pissing anyone off in the Brotherhood was always a bad idea. It wasn't like they knew how to kill you six ways from Sunday or anything.

The rest of the night went by almost uneventfully and eventually Connor herded him back upstairs to his room to unpack.

"Make sure you leave your door open, let your scent mingle in with the rest of the house. The more you smell like home, the better" he was told and the survivalist left him after that. Unpacking was pretty boring on its own, stuffing clothing into drawers and tossing the contents of his pockets onto a little nightstand next to the bed. And then down in the depths of his bag, Desmond found a Snickers bar. He had totally forgotten that it was in here, score!

Desmond ripped it open to see if he could eat it and, aha, what luck, he could! The smell of chocolate was so good, why hadn't he eaten this earlier? He was about to take a bite when a thumping sound echoed throughout the house. Pausing, Desmond wondered what on earth the noise was, when suddenly Altair appeared in the doorway. He stared at him, wondering how the hell he got up here so fast, was about to ask him too, but before he even got a chance, _woosh_, he found himself flat on the bed; Altair's form bouncing out of the room.

It took him about ten seconds to realize his candy was gone from his hand, another fifteen to get off his ass, and a fully thirty to barrel out of the room and down the stairs. Jumping the last few steps, Desmond got down there only to see that his Snickers bar was no longer re-claimable. The wrapper was in shreds on the floor, and the boys were snarling as they tried to wrestle the candy bar from the other's mouth.

With a great pull, the Snickers bar broke in half and the boys were tearing into their respective pieces of candy. With that, they totally changed. One moment they looked ready to kill, but now they had blissful looks upon their faces as if the chocolate was the best thing they had ever eaten. But Desmond didn't care about how happy they were, that was his damn candy!

"Guys" Desmond whined at them, kneeling down to pick up the remains of the wrapper. "Not cool, that was mine"

"Yes, _was _yours" Altair replied between bites and chews, shooting him a very smug look.

"Again, not cool" Desmond repeated, turning tail and trudging back up the stairs. But who would have thunk it, werewolves like freaking chocolate. Or it was just them desperate for something other than meat. That was the key to their good sides perhaps? Buy them candy? '_Wait a minute...Isn't chocolate poisonous to animals?'_ he wondered, shivering at the thought of possibly doing in Altair and Malik from a candy bar.

Hopefully they would still be alive in the morning.

* * *

I think Malik is my favorite to write~


	3. Cry Wolf

Well this took me a little bit longer than anticipated to get uploaded, but thank you Computer Graphics class for having an easy week of no projects, and a two hour final exam day. I still have a good hour of class left, which I guess means I can write more of chapter 4 or so. For this chapter, I present to you more fluff, yay fluff.

And to Kan in the reviews: Don't worry my friend, Ezio shows up eventually. Write all the assassins?

Disclaimer: AC series belongs to Ubisoft, yay.

* * *

Connor left for his trip a few days later. Between now and his arrival, Desmond had been given a crash course in "Taking Care of Two Jackasses 101". He had been preparing most of their meals, had already done the laundry once, and was forced to leave some dirty underwear lying around for a day. All just random ass shit to make the boys get used to the fact that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Malik's behavior toward him had yet to improve though. The one-armed Syrian was still incredibly hostile towards him, Desmond was scared of him. Altaïr could make the man melt into a puddle on the floor, and he tolerated Connor to a point. His bark was a lot worse than his bite, and he was constantly ordering Connor to do this, do that, get me this, fetch me that. He was just a lazy bully, Desmond couldn't figure out how anyone put up with it.

But for Desmond, Malik wouldn't stop growling at him until he was told to shut up or Desmond left the room. Every time they were so much as within an arm's length of each other, Malik would snarl and take a swipe at him like an angry cat. His theatrics never ceased, no one dared to really tell him off or actually make him stop, stop. Desmond kept hoping Altair would say something about it, but it didn't seem like he cared.

The other Syrian actually found it funny, grinning like a jackal while Malik lashed out at him with that whip in his mouth Malik called a tongue. Finally on the day before Connor left, the brown-haired Syrian said something, waiting until Malik stalked away after a tirade to reach up and squeeze Desmond's shoulder comfortingly.

"Do not take what he says to heart, cousin. He is just agitated and stressed right now, he is not a fan of change" Altair reassured, giving him a weak smile.

"Huh, funny, he acts like he totally hates me" Desmond huffed.

"Mm, maybe. It probably does not help you look just like me" the other man laughed, a full grin on his face. Desmond frowned at him, that wasn't very damn helpful. "Don't look so down, cousin. He didn't like me either when we first met" he added, ruffling Desmond's short hair before moving off to look for mate. That, Desmond never expected to hear. There was no way in hell those two were not madly in love something. They did everything together, practically attached at the hip; Malik ever hate Altaïr? As if.

* * *

The day Connor did was a bit dreadful in the beginning. All his bags were packed, all the chores were done for the time being, and the man had a damn bus to catch. Yet Altaïr and Malik managed to delay him with petty, stupid, and utterly random requests to eat up his time. Desmond didn't want to see him go either, but this was ridiculous; they simply didn't want the survivalist to go.

Somehow Desmond managed to to pry Connor away from them long enough to shove him inside the truck. The look on the boys' faces when the door closed and locked was priceless. They had their best begging faces on, sitting by the barn and staring sadly at Connor as if their dejected attitudes would keep him from going. But Connor wasn't fooled, sticking his hand out the window to wave them goodbye. As they began to pull away from the farm, Desmond watched Altair howl in frustration in the review mirror, and a second later they heard it.

Connor was only going away for a few weeks, not forever. Desmond kept expecting one of the boys to come racing after them and somehow stop the truck from going anywhere; take it apart and rip it to shreds maybe. But they never showed, guess Connor wasn't going to be missed that badly after all.

The boring ride through town was still just as boring. The cop from a couple days ago passed them but didn't pull them over again. Instead, the cop followed them all the way to the bus depot; Desmond found it incredibly creepy and insane. Once there, Connor's goodbye was short, he was already running late. He reminded Desmond of all the rules, don't let the boys out in town unsupervised, don't let them kill anyone, yadda yadda yadda. The younger assassin all but shoved him onto the bus and soon enough, he was on his own.

His first order of business as caretaker for two insane wolf-men was a rather annoying talking to by the cop that was obsessed with following them around. He was one of those gung-ho, "my way or the highway" type of guys, and he made it quite clear that he had zero tolerance for the boys' constant "antics".

"You! You're the one in charge for Kenway" the cop stated. Well obviously he was.

"Yup" Desmond nodded.

"Son, let's get a few things straight here. I don't like Kenway, I don't like La-ah-aad, I don't like Aal-say-if, and I don't like you. What's your name, boy?"

"Miles. Desmond Miles"

"Well Miles, I especially don't like you"

"Wha-...What?"

"You're lookin after the bastards, ain't ya?"

"Yes but I-"

"I. Don't. Like. You. Comprendo?"

This guy was unbelievable.

"Yes, sir" Desmond grumbled. Satisfied, the cop left him alone after that._'Goddamn! First Malik's on my case, now this chump?'_ he thought, annoyed as hell. This whole town would be on him before he knew it, with the way that cop was strutting about. The guy already knew what he was here for, who else in town had their noses in Connor's and the boys' business?

* * *

The barn door was open wide when he got back. Desmond had yet to go in, quite liking the current state of his body being in one solid piece. But he strode towards it anyway with only little fear. After all, he had a sweet surprise for the poor boys, surely they wouldn't mind him trespassing if he a brought a peace offering, right? They had been so down earlier, so he took a trip to the store to pick up some snacks and then some. A little chocolate might be just the thing to perk 'em up. It hadn't killed them before, so a little more now shouldn't be too bad.

Inside, the barn was filled with piles of hay, beaten up mattresses, and a couch shoved in there. If they were college kids, this place easily could have been a sweet pad or something, maybe like a mini bar and a pool table. Connor never told him what the boys exactly did in here, but Desmond suspected they either came in here to get their wolf on, or fuck.

Right now they weren't doing anything, stretched out on a hay covered mattress. It was probably one of the few times he saw them relatively immobile; it was nearly impossible for them to sit still. But for whatever reason, they felt like playing dead, save for the rise and fall of the rise and fall of their chests. Desmond open his mouth to say something, but was beaten to the punch before he could utter a sound.

"What do you want, cousin?" Altaïr asked without really looking at him.

"Uh well, though you guys seemed a bit blue. So uh...got ya something at the store. Um...hold on" Desmond answered, rummaging through the bag for their treat. The Syrians stared at him indifferently, yet almost curiously; what did he get them? He found what he was looking for, a couple Hershey bars. Their whole moods changed instantly, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes wide; if they had tails they would surely be wagging.

Grinning, Desmond tossed the chocolate bars at them and quickly retreated from the barn. The sound of snarling and relieved whimpers when they managed to rip the packaging apart to eat the chocolate inside followed him all the way to the house; they were damn happy about it. Probably didn't totally get him on their good side, but brownie points never hurt anyone.

Besides, he had bought a little extra at the store that would hopefully appease them. Once inside the house and into the kitchen, Desmond pulled out a few boxes of Cheerios and set them on top of the refrigerator. Connor said not to give them anything sweet to eat, but these were plain old Cheerios, surely that was an exception to the rule. And...Desmond liked a bowl of cereal in the morning, so there was that too.

Perhaps the real gem of his shopping expedition was the Lactaid milk he had bought. This was that special kind of milk for people were lactose intolerant. Connor also said don't give them milk, it makes them sick. So Desmond did some research the other night, and found that this kind of milk was perfect. They were like cats in this sense; cats couldn't have actual cow milk either, contrary to popular belief.

Success though, he had solved the breakfast dilemma. Cereal was quick and easy to make, and you could do it with one hand. He couldn't remember the last time he had ever felt so brilliant.

* * *

Malik couldn't sleep that night. Most nights he was pretty restless as it was, but tonight was just terrible for him. Connor had barely been gone twelve hours, yet he already missed the other man. He wasn't a fan of changed, hated when something new came along to disrupt what had become "normal" in his godforsaken life.

Like the pup, that was a big change he wouldn't mind smiting off the face of this planet. The pup reminded Malik of Altair too much before it happened. That cocky, over-confidence in himself and utter stupidity that made him want to rip his hair out, gah! And ooh how they looked alike, talked alike, did everything alike. It was like they were one person split in two!

Malik didn't like that.

There was only room for one overbearing bastard in this house, and that was Altaïr; His Altaïr. Of all the members in the Brotherhood, they had to pick the pup. Malik would rather have that flirtatious cock, Ezio, here than a puppy. He hated strangers on his territory, and hated when they didn't leave, and hated how they strutted about, and...and...Well, he hated a lot of things.

And the smell strangers had on them, good grief! Malik wasn't kidding a few days back when he said the pup reeked; he really, really did. Desmond's scent was close to Altaïr's, but it carried the tang of steel and asphalt, of smog and grease. Too many unnatural smells at once, it drove him absolutely crazy. Sitting next to the dumb kid irritated the hell out of him to no end; he seriously needed a bath or new clothes or something!

It would still be a long time still until the scents of the city washed away and replaced with that of the country. The tang of the city would never go away though; it would remain on him for long as he lived most likely. It was just a birth scent of sorts, that one smell that followed you everywhere no matter where you lived. It was what Malik liked to call it, to think as he could still get that hint of the desert of his and Altaïr's skin. The desert...it smelled like home.

Despite hating change, Malik would kill to move to another state, preferably Nevada or Arizona. Those were desert states of sand, wind, and heat. He found the area of Apperton to be too cold, too green, too everything he never grew up around. Five years and he still had yet to fully adjust to America, three for the curse on him.

He suddenly felt very homesick. Growling in frustration, he rolled over to his other side, facing a sleeping Altaïr. His mate had learned a long time ago that Malik was a restless thing most nights and could now sleep through whatever he dished out. Usually he didn't mind, but now Malik really wanted his mate awake with him; how dare he sleep on like that!

"Habibi" Malik murmured, shifting closer to the other male, burying his face into a tanned chest. Inhaling deeply, he could smell grass and dirt of his mate's skin, hay and cotton. There was chocolate from earlier today (the pup was good for something after all), traces of arousal and sex from earlier that day as well, sweat and musk. The slightest hint of blood and fur, the traces of their other halves.

And beneath all that, there was that scent of home, of Altaïr. Grit and sand, hot wind and familiar spices. Malik practically melted, having that smell swirl into his nose. It was not just familiar, but comforting and safe, like home was supposed to be. "Habibi" he murmured again, resting his chin on that chest. Beneath the sound of blood rushing and muscles bunching, Malik listened to the quiet inhale and exhale of lungs, the steady beat of his mate's heart thumping along.

Altair's breathing changed, signaling that he was awake at last. Malik whined into his chest, rubbing his cheek against it. A hand came up and buried itself into his hair, fingers scratching at his scalp. He pressed up into that hand, and if he had his tail, it would surely be wagging. A chuckle rumbled in Altair's throat, but the man was otherwise silent.

"I couldn't sleep" Malik mumbled, the hand in his hair stilling before moving again to pet him.

"So I can tell" Altair replied, pushing Malik off him so he could sit up. "What's keeping you up this time?"

"Not sure" Mailk shrugged. Multiple things really, but he could not exactly pinpoint what was bothering him the most.

"So because you are not able to sleep, you're making me suffer with you by waking me up, right?" Altair grumbled, frowning at him.

"Hey, if I cannot sleep, neither should you" Mailk said with a smirk. His mate snorted disbelievingly, lying back down to attempt to resume sleeping. Malik whacked him.

"What the hell, Malik!" the other man snarled at him, shooting back up with bristling hackles.

"Stay up with me" the one-armed Syrian snapped, a steady growl rising from him. They sat and stared at each other, growling into the other's face. In a matter of seconds they exploded into action. They bit and scratched at each other like cats, howled and grappled like dogs, and fought with the intensities of two great demons. They rolled around their small nest of pillows and blankets, tangled together in a furious ball of anger and power.

They slammed into the walls, the doors, backs slapping hard against the hardwood floor. It was amazing how they managed to keep from breaking anything or tearing a new hole in the house. Extensive damage was reserved for their bodies only.

Malik _loved_ these fights, layering scratches and bites on to his mate's skin. Hey may be minus an arm, but his ferocity and strength were great, easily making up for it. Sometimes he liked to think he was stronger than Altair because his _other half_ had to work twice as hard to compensate. Whatever the case was, he was a force not to be reckoned with.

The fight for power changed when Mailk found himself nestled on Altair's legs, his mate writhing madly to try and buck him off. If Malik could purr, he would have been doing just that; seeing his mate like this was just too good. Whether Altair let himself get pinned or not, he's never say. But oh how Malik loved seeing the cocky bastard beneath him, like this. Chest heaving, body taut, amber eyes aglow with adrenaline. Sweat poured out from every possible pore on his body, and fresh wounds turned into scratches, to scars, to normal skin within seconds.

So saddening, knowing their testaments of their power struggles would never be shown off to the world. One day though, Malik would find a way to leave his mark on  
Altair, a permanent one to show all who the eagle turned wolf really belong to.

All he could do now was sneer at the form beneath him, triumph dancing in his dark eyes. God knew how much he adored this sense of dominance that rose in his chest. The sense kept rising within him until it burst from his mouth in the form of a howl. Even in his human form, his howls still sounded so wolf-like, so feral yet beautiful. It was a short, sweet song that he knew even the coyotes on the hillside could hear. _Everyone_ needed to hear, to listen to the current head alpha spin his tale of victory. Grinning like a mad fool, he stared down at his mate, staring right back at him with lidded eyes.

"Have I ever told you that you have the loveliest voice I have ever heard?" Altair asked in a silky tone. Malik flushed, he never did compliments like that well. With a dark laugh,  
Altair reached up to grapple the back of Malik's head, pulling him down so their lips would crash together. It was all over for them after that.

* * *

Desmond stared up at the ceiling blankly, pillow wrapped around his head. But that simply wasn't enough to block out all the noise the boys were making in their room right across the hall. They were fighting earlier and that was a god awful racket all on its own that was impossible to sleep through.

It was loud enough to scare him awake at first, then it gradually became annoying and god how he wished they'd shut the hell up already. Then it got somewhat quiet and Desmond thought he could go back to sleep; until someone started howling, very well almost making himself piss his pants (thankfully he didn't). Then they…

Oh he _knew_ what they were doing now, but didn't want to _think_ about it. If only his Mp3 player had a live battery, he could at least try and block them out that way. Just anything else to listen to instead of the sound of the boys fucking each other.

Grumbling, Desmond let go of one side of his pillow to reach for his cellphone. Flipping it open, the screen illuminated the room. Through squinted eyes, he read two-thirty one a.m. on the internal clock. _Two. Thirty-one. A.M._ He had barely been asleep for three _hours_ and he was stuck being awake again.

With a groan, he tossed the phone aside, slapping his hand over his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

This is actually probably my shortest chapter yet. Funny because it takes up about twelves pages in my notebook. Hm. Well, do your usual thing I suppose, you know it works. Thanks for reading guys, you're all awesome!

Safety and pace, brothers and sisters.


	4. Animal

****I'll be honest, this chapter took way to long to write, and god it feels short and WELL HERE YOU GO ANYWAY. Thanks for all the reviews and favs and stuff I've been getting for this story. Fellow readers, your wait is over!

Disclaimer: I do not own AC or any of these characters. Ubisoft does.

* * *

**BOOM!**

"Fuck shit!" Desmond cursed, startled awake by the loud explosion that made the whole house rattle. He sat up in bed, clutching at his chest, heart pounding wildly. Sunlight streamed through his window, and after a mad scramble for his cellphone, he found it was only just after ten in the morning. He should have been up two hours ago. Another **BOOM** shook the house, causing the young assassin to drop his phone in surprise.

What the hell was that?

Throwing the covers aside, Desmond jumped out of bed and his room, not even bothering to put some clothes on (boxers were sufficient enough). He headed downstairs to find nothing. The living room was completely empty. A quick stop into the kitchen yielded empty cereal bowls and the box of Cheerios on the counter but nothing else.

**BOOM!**

Desmond looked out the kitchen window in time to see a dark shape shoot over the barn and into the heavily forested mountain side. Swearing, he made his way outside and around to the side of the house. The long, black barrel of a cannon greeted him, making the assassin freeze in his tracks. Well, that solved the mystery of the mysterious dark shapes flying about and the accompanying noise. Desmond knew next to nothing about cannons, but he knew standing in front of one was not a good idea. Especially when Altaïr was shoving a big, black ball into the butt of the cannon.

Both men worse big, red earmuffs to muffle the shots, and oh, Altaïr brought a long, smoking stick that he used to light the cannon. Both men jumped away from the now live over-sized gun, and Desmond did the same, finding solace in the wall of the house and curling up into a tight ball, ears covered.

**BOOM!**

His entire body bounced into the air, ears ringing, head spinning, all sense of direction, gravity, gone. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, sounds were muffled and heavy, he couldn't make out what he was supposed to be hearing. Desmond carefully lifted his head up, vision swimming for a bit, Altaïr and Malik hovering over them.

_"Desmond! Hey, Desmond!"_

_"Fuck, is he okay?"_

_"Don't know. Desmond! Cousin, please answer"_

Their voices were so disoriented, far off, and like they were trying to talk to him underwater. He kept blinking, god nothing seemed right and then suddenly, proper sound came rushing in like a tidal wave, and it felt like his head was spinning again from the sheer force of that. Someone hauled him to his feet, but crap even that was difficult, his legs felt like jello and didn't want to hold him up. He leaned against the side of the house, that was a mind fuck that he did not need to experience again.

"Here, wear these" Altaïr said to him, shoving a pair of earmuffs into his hands before bouncing back over to the cannon to help Malik reload it. Desmond blinked at them, the message hitting home a few seconds later as he shoved the earmuffs onto this head. He was ready for the next firing, he had to be this time. The earmuffs gave him that underwater feel again, he could barely hear the boys bickering with each other before finally lighting the cannon.

_Boom._

A dull thud was the only sound he heard, and he silently watched the big black cannonball soar out above him. Taking the earmuffs back off, sound returned, and everything seemed normal again. Except his legs, they didn't like being this close to an explosion, and they buckled beneath him.

This was why he was all about stealth, and not about being right there on the frontline.

* * *

"Guys, get in the car"

They didn't move.

"Guys, get in the damn car"

They still didn't move. Desmond didn't get it. They said they needed more ammunition for this rifles and shotguns, there was a store in town that sold some. So Desmond (after dressing and getting his chores done) said he would take them down to this place. Yet they refused to so much as get a foot near the truck.

"Guys, come on!" Desmond urged.

"Take it out first" Malik demanded.

"Take what out?"

"Glove compartment, Connor keeps it in there. Hurry"

Confused, Desmond slid into the truck, reaching over and clicking the compartment open. It hung down, a long, metal bar sitting inside. No, not metal, it was way too shiny for that. He lifted it out of its holding place, letting out a small "oof" and its weight, sliding back out of the car.

"This thing?" the young assassin asked, holding it up for them to see. Altaïr and Malik immediately started growling at the sight of the bar, growling like mad but backing up away from it. The hell? It was just a shiny metal bar, what the hell was so bad about it? Without asking them though, Desmond tossed it off to the side where the bar thumped to the ground some ways away from the truck. The boys growls quieted, but they still looked wary.

"Okay guys, inside, come on" Desmond said, and they finally edged over to the truck, Malik sitting up front and Altaïr in the truck bed (there was only room for two people up front). He started the truck up and away they went to town. "So…what was that all about exactly?" he inquired, glancing at Malik.

"Connor keeps it in here to make sure we don't steal the truck" was all the one-armed Syrian said and left it at that. Why the hell would Connor put something like that in here? Nothings stops two werewolves from doing whatever the fuck they wanted, right? Maybe except silver but-….And that was it. That was a bar of silver. That made more sense now.

xxxxxxxx

"Altaïr, I'm gonna get a coffee, want anything?" Desmond asked him, ready to die of sheer boredom and exhaustion. Malik was inside the gun store getting whatever they needed while Desmond and Altaïr sat outside with the truck.

"Sure, just tell them to make our regular. They'll know what that means" his cousin replied. Nodding, Desmond made his way down the street, arriving at the local (and probably only) coffee shop in town. So it wasn't a surprise that it took a while to get through the line of people and make his order.

He told the baristas what he wanted, adding in the "Altaïr and Malik regular". They knew exactly what he was talking about, and a short time later, he had his coffee, and he had tea for them. That figured really, all they ever drank at home was tea like it was going out of style. It was a simple walk back to the truck, surely he hadn't been gone too long, not enough to make a huge difference.

And thankfully he didn't drop the travel tray of hot drinks in pure shock when Altaïr wasn't in the same spot he left him in. He wasn't in the bed, the cabin, or around oh no, he was gone gone.

_'Oh shit, where'd he go?'_ Desmond panicked mentally, glancing wildly up and down the street in search of him. _'Good job Desmond, you lost the six foot tall wolf man, Fan-fucking-tastic'_ he scolded himself, not even knowing where to begin looking for him.

"Desmond" Malik's sounded from behind him, and he whirled around to face the man. "Where is Altaïr?" he asked, shifting his big bag of whatever to his elbow as he opened up the passenger door and dumped it into the seat of the truck.

"That…is an excellent question, I'm gonna have to get back to you on that"

"You don't know, do you?"

"Ah…no"

"Follow me then…and give me some of that tea"

Desmond obliged and followed Malik across the street, there weren't really any cars and any that were around were farther up the street. So across they went and a couple shops down to oh this was good, a martial arts studio. Something that had to do with fighting and showing what a fantastic fighter he was, that really figured.

Inside, it was a mostly empty building with a large training square, and small sidelines for students and spectators alike. Presently everyone was crowded along said sidelines, watching and cheering intently as Altaïr and some kid went at in the ring. Malik stalked over to a man wearing a black gi and a big, bushy beard on his face.

"Rauf!" Malik growled a greeting at the man.

"Ah, Malik, so good to see you. Hope you don't mind, your wayward dog there wandered in to show my students how to fight…again" Rauf chuckled, grinning at the one armed man. So this was a regular thing then. Desmond let out a silent sigh of relief, so he wouldn't be in trouble for losing Altaïr, the man could do that himself.

"Rauf, I don't care how bad your students are at something, Altaïr is the worst person to pick to show them what he knows" Malik scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"But he's so good at fighting. Not all my students are going to up and join the military you know" Rauf pointed out. Military? That was their cover story then. It was a good lie because it could explain the guns, the skills, Malik's lack of arm, their…attitudes and behavior.

"Well maybe if they did, they wouldn't be such pussies that needed someone else to show them how to-" Malik was cut off when a loud _whump_ sounded and everyone was suddenly cheering and yelling. Looking over at the ring, the kid Altaïr was sparring with was flat on his back on the ground, Altaïr standing over him and acting like some wrestler who had just won his fake match on WWE.

"Ohhh, what now, son? What now? Told you couldn't handle this!" the Syrian was jeering at the kid, laughing flaunting his apparent awesomeness. The kid slowly eased himself up and off the ground, his face flushed in embarrassment and he quickly vacated the ring. Altaïr sauntered out after him a few moments later, head held high, back straight, a smug grin on his face. "Oh good, you got me my tea" he cooed at Desmond, swiping up his mug from the travel tray.

"Cold tea, you show-off" Malik snorted at him, nudging him towards the door. The three of them bid their goodbyes to Rauf, the bearded man reminding them of the upcoming Fourth of July celebration next week. Altaïr and Malik promised to bring their cannons, same as every year.

"Every single year you've lived here?" Desmond questioned them once outside.

"You Americans love blowing shit up, so why not?" Altaïr fired back.

Good point

* * *

The ending was terrible I know.

I just really wanted to include Rauf and having Altaïr teaching his students what he knew

Safety and peace!


	5. Of Wolf and Man

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, or whatever you do or don't celebrate. For this holiday season, I present to you the long awaited chapter 5 of Bad Moon Hell Raisers. Thanks for all the favs, the reviews, etc etc, you're all wonderful. Thanks for being patient. Now I ask you to pay attention to this chapter, for everything you read, please keep it all mind for the future. This one is pretty long, but hopefully this should sustain you until chapter 6 is completed.

* * *

Three days before Fourth of July, and it was Desmond's first full moon here with the boys. Now, no one exactly told him when it was or what he should expect for it. Really, the boys went to bed perfectly fine one night, then woke up the next morning with giant fire ants in their pants. Ones that kept biting at their dicks because Altaïr and Malik came down to breakfast ready to tear each other's throat out.

Well actually, growling and snapping at each other, verbally and physically. They wouldn't even eat their eggs or toast, food the last things on their minds for once. Rather, they say in opposite corners of the room and nearly had a hissy fit whenever someone so much as breathed wrong. All this, completely and utterly new behavior to Desmond.

It just seemed incredibly unreal to have Altaïr and Malik at each other like this. They were like overgrown, moody puppies most of the time, following each other around, tripping over one another, curled up in a big pile when they napped in the living room. Puppyish stuff. Not "If you blink at me one more time I will fucking rip your eyes out". Desmond's guess, it was a full moon thing because this wasn't normal. Not that he really knew what normal was for a werewolf, but it couldn't be this.

Sure, they bickered a lot, and yelled at each other a lot, and generally got on each other's nerves, but not to the extent of literally wanting to kill each other. Full moon days seemed to amplify that, and it didn't look like they'd calm down any time soon. Not for being cute, or trying to bother him, or humping each other, or playing with their cannons. Normal things that would normally chill them out, but since they kept giving each other dirty looks for breathing,t hat didn't seem like it would any time soon at all.

But now Desmond still had at least eleven hours or so until the sun went down and the boys could wolf it up to their heart's content. Which he was possibly scared as hell about because he didn't know shit about this and he_ really_ needed to get a hold of Connor, _badly_. But the survivalist, for one reason or another, was making it impossible to get a hold of. Which was not helpful at all since Desmond needed to know what he was actually supposed to do tonight, and not, you know, cower under his bed and hope he wasn't bed until the sun rose the next morning. And since he was too lazy to vacuum underneath there, he sorta needed the advice now.

Actually now was probably what he needed to worry about. Like making sure there was a later to look forward to. That sounded a hell of a lot more important. Desmond was somewhat sitting between Altaïr and Malik but against the wall and pretty much out of the way should they try and jump each other right there in the middle of the living room. Here he was trying to call Connor, glancing between the two Syrians as he did, watching them flinch or wince at the dial tones they easily heard loud and clear.

He finally gave up around the fifth time he got voicemail, and basically the message left that Connor would hear later would be Altaïr threatening to smash the phone against Desmond' head if he did not stop _fucking calling him._ And Desmond promptly did so, shoving his phone into his pocket and hoping Connor would pick his own up soon. And then it came, that overwhelming fear being torn to bits and being stared at like a big, juicy rabbit practically begging to become dinner' That feeling he was being hunted by a powerful predator and he didn't have long to live because someone else didn't want him to. Probably not something an Assassin should feel, but he did nonetheless because he had no actual means of being able to beat the two werewolves in the room with his hands alone. And even then, he'd probably lose said hands.

So he would do his absolute best to not piss them off any more today with the real beast threatening to break free.

* * *

The rest of the day went along the lines of Desmond awkwardly napping upon the silver bar that Connor kept in the glove box. Somewhere between shoving his phone in his pocket and attempting to take a cat nap, the boys had finally reached a breaking point of sorts. Altaïr tackled Malik, and they rolled around the living room in a mass whirlwind of destruction behind (oh the poor pillows). Desmond somehow managed to get this ass out of there, and out of panic, ran to the truck, got the bar out, and ran back inside with it as a shield. The fighting had immediately stopped in favor of jumping away from him in absolute terror. Malik managed to spit a curse or two at him, but they seemed to the lack they normally held.

With this newfound power, Desmond managed to get them to completely separate. Altaïr was sentenced to their bedroom, and Malik banished out to the barn. He was absolutely amazed that such a small, stupid piece of metal had so much power over them. Something so insignificant to people like him was a big deal to people like Altaïr and Malik. Then again, any kind of silver would be the death of them, and Desmond would have to keep in mind to only hold this over their heads in extreme emergencies. Not that he was sure he'd have to do that again ever, he wasn't staying here permanently after all.

However, he still kept it around him after sending the boys off to separate corners of the farm. Because Altaï _was_ only just upstairs, and if his wolf decided to come out to play early, at least Desmond would be able to hold him off. Though, keeping him up there all night long? Yeah no, he'd put the bar back in the truck long before the sun set.

But around five or so, Desmond was rudely ripped out of any sort of sleep by the ringing of his cellphone. Still groggy, he fumbled for it and flipped it open. "Hello?" he asked into the earpiece.

**"Got your messages. Please tell me the phone is in your hand not lodged in your skull"**

"Oh thank fucking god" Desmond sighed, slumping against a pillow. "It's in my hand, don't worry, Thank you, thank you, thank you so so sooo much for calling me back"

**"Well you know, the five different voicemails weren't really convincing enough that you needed help, but that last one left me kinda nervous I just really called to make sure you were alive" **Connor said. His voice was suddenly the more reassuring thing Desmond had heard in days. The answers to all his problems were about to be given to him, everything would now make sense and he could do anything after this.

"Well I am so…..Yeah, I could use your help here. Like….what do I do with killer wolves? How do I _survive _ that?" Desmond started asking, hoping Connor secretly had a silver bomb shelter or a closet somewhere he could hide in, because that would be totally ballin if he did.

**"Alright, I'll tell you what you don't do then. First of all, don't panic. Don't run away, don't scream at them, do nothing. If anything, they should recognize you, and they shouldn't hurt you. They might wanna play with you, but they shouldn't maul you"**

"You saying 'shouldn't' a lot doesn't make me feel better about this…."

**"Save all comments for the end, please. Alright, so if they don't hurt you, then you're good, obviously, and should go running with them"**

"Running?"

**"Running, hunting, same thing. What do you expect them to do? Howl at the moon all night? Yeaaaah no"**

"Why though?"

**"You're pack"**

"And that means?"

**"Wolves run in packs. You've been there long enough, you're part of the pack. So you run with them. And if you don't, they will make you. Trust me, they have ways"**

"Oh that just sounds absolutely fan-_fucking_-tastic"

**"Oh kid"** Connor chuckled. **"Look, just hang out with them for the night, they'll eventually pass out and turn back to normal. Okay? Can you handle that for a couple hours?"**

"Suppose I can" Desmond mused.

**"Greaaaat. You'll be fine. Listen, I'll be home in a few days, just after Fourth of July. Tell the guys that, and survive until then. Can ya handle that for me?"**

"Yeeeeeees"

**"Alright smartass, see ya then. Later"** and Connor hung up. Desmond flipped his phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket. He sat back into the pillows, tapping his fingers against the silver bar next to him. Yes, go running with the bullheaded, assassin werewolves. How _safe_ that sounded. But….he'd do what Connor told him to. Maybe Altaïr and Malik's wolves were far more pleasant beings than their human counterparts.

It was probably a good idea to put the bar back in the truck first though.

* * *

It was a quarter to eight and the boys were finally somewhat relaxed. Desmond was sitting outside on the porch with them, a Syrian on either side of him. Both men were oddly quiet, actually sitting completely still, staring up at the moon. They only wore loose pants.

The countryside around them was a marvel to behold. It was a beautiful sight, the full moon lighting up the sky. The whole area around them that Desmond could see glowed beneath the moonlight. Like it had been transformed, covered in a spectacular sheen of yellowy white. This, was country living for sure. So far away from civilization that you were practically in another world. No city lights to block out the stars, no cars covering up the drone of crickets and frogs, and no tang of smog in the air. Nothing but nature.

And then it was time. Suddenly, Altaïr let out a pained grunt and doubled over, as if he had been punched in the gut. A sheen of sweat broke out across his back, gasping for breath, and a deep growl rising from this throat. His whole body spasmed, and Desmond could see the skin rippling like a stone thrown into a pond.

"Get his pants before he tangles himself up" Malik growled at him, sliding off the porch and wrestling his own off. Nodding, Desmond carefully edged over to Altaïr, the latter on his stomach now, making it easier for Desmond to grab the cuffs of his pantlegs and tug them off. Now the skin looked ready to split open, the flesh bulging as muscles and bones began to reform themselves just beneath. His eyes the size of dinner plates at this point, Desmond could see a light fuzz beginning to grow atop the skin. Even Altaïr's face had changed; though twisted in pain, it slowly grew longer, more narrow, the very beginnings of a snout.

On Desmond's other side, Malik was suffering a very similar fate. Though he looked more at peace, more calm, but still in great pain as the transformation came. With Malik, every breathe was another transition to the next body. Limbs shifted, changed shape, longer, thinner, but packed with muscle. There was an obvious difference between the two and how their transformations came about. The way Altaïr twisted about suggested he was perhaps fighting it, while Malik's more calm approach was perhaps a more peaceful approach at it.

But Desmond couldn't blame his cousin, though. He was giving up his body for another form, a form completely separate from a human. To become something else, another being entirely…It was scary to think about and it was certainly terrifying to watch. How they did this every month, Desmond didn't know. It looked far too painful to be real, something that normal people should not have to go through. Even it was only for one night a month, it was just horrifying.

Finally, the whole agonizing process came to a close. Gone were the two men Desmond had come to know. In their place, two beasts lied. He had never seen wolves up close before, and he wasn't sure they were actually supposed to be that _big_. They were _huge_, bigger than him probably. And they were just lying on the ground. He didn't know what else to expect from them. They looked like normal wolves, not half-man, half-wolf creature that was from the old _Wolf-Man_ movies. He had honestly expected something much, much worse, something more along the line of those bad movies Hollywood loved to make. No, instead, before him he had two gorgeous animals straight out of some painting.

One wolf was a creamy coffee color, lithe, lean, a sleek wolf that was made for running; Altaïr was an absolutely handsome wolf. The animal beside Altaïr was just as stunning. The only way Desmond knew he was there was thanks to the moonlight turing black fur into a silver color. He looked naturally bigged, stockier, but very powerful. It was just amazing how beautiful they both were, Desmond couldn't help but stare at them in awe.

Both wolves lay panting on heavily as if the process of shoving their human sides away was a tiring and difficult task. They looked so bone tired, so Desmond rose to get them some water at least, they could have that much at least couldn't they? As soon as he stood though, their heads immediately snapped up. Two pairs of gleaming amber stared up at him, and Desmond froze on the spot. The coffee colored wolf, Altaïr, shot up to his feet in one swift movement. Now he looked way bigger than before, scarier, the real top predator Desmond had feared when he first came here.

He couldn't help but shake more than a leaf as Altaïr stalked forward, easily closing the distance between them with one mere step. Desmond stupidly flinched away and closed his eyes, waiting for that big body to crash into him, for razor sharp teeth to start tearing away at his face. The porch creaked, something big brushed up against his leg. There was a loud snuffling along his pantsleg, and without any other warning, he was bumped into and sent face planting into the ground.

"Owwwwww" Desmond moaned, blinking his eyes open. A dark, wobbling leg was in front of him. Glancing up, Malik hovered over him, ears pressed at odd angles, brows pressed together. He could practically hear Malik's scathing voice in his head, "_Stupid pup"_

In any case, Malik's wolf was just as unimpressed as he normally was.

Desmond gasped as a tremendous weight settled on his back, and hot air blasted the back of his head. "Altaïr" he barely managed to breathe out, gasping again as the wolf sat his ass down on him. Oh Jesus he was fucking heavy! Like a weight he stupidly dropped on his chest while at the gym, a crushing force that defiantly kept him from breathing. So right off the bat, his first full moon, and he had a two-hundred pound animal sitting on him. _Fan-fucking-tastic._

More hot air blasted the back of his head and neck, and he really just wished they would hurry up and eat him already. _"They won't hurt you"_ Connor said. _"They wanna play with you"_ he had said. Yeah, play with their food before eating it. Fuck that! He was going to die tonight. He was sent out here to be werewolf chow. _Everything is permitted_, including feeding Brotherhood members to each other.

A yippy, yappy howl split the air. A chorus of them rose up after it from the mountainside, then died down. Altaïr and Malik, wanting to let their neighbors know they were out and about, tipped their heads back and howled as well. Desmond had heard them howl before, but as humans. And their howls had sounded more human, but animalistic, a mad mimicry of the real thing. Their howls as actual animals though, sounded melodic, calming, but carried so much power in them. Despite being able to feel the song through his bones, and that he had a big wolf on his back, Desmond felt mesmerized. Just like its source, the song of a wolf held the same beauty as the one who sang it.

Desmond let out a cry when Altaïr leapt off him, and he was reminded that he could actually breathe, that the process of it actually existed. As he regained his breath, a furry head butted into his shoulder, and he yelped when his ankles were snapped at. _Get up, get up_ the gestures seemed to say.

"Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up!" he grumbled, slowly picking himself up. Altaïr practically pranced around him, tail wagging and tongue lolled out. Malik was already limping away and towards the the trees. He paused to look over at them, yipped, and continued on his way. Altaïr whined, head butting Desmond's leg before taking off after the other wolf.

_"Go run with them…packs run together"_

Do or die time then. As much as he didn't want to, Desmond took a deep breath and jogged after them, less they get impatient with him and decide to drag him along. Altaïr was running circles around Malik impatiently, as if he couldn't wait for the others to catch up and run with him. When Desmond did finally catch up to them, the coffee colored wolf took off into the trees. He heard a frustrated whine from Malik, the black wolf pausing again to catch his breath before continuing on. Desmond decided it was best to stick with him.

Chances were, he'd have an easier time keeping track of Malik throughout the night than their bouncier comrade. Malik didn't seem to have a problem with that, seemingly wandering around the woods without a sense of direction as to where he was going. He hobbled out curves and zig-zags and plenty of twists and turns, following some path Desmond couldn't see in the darkness.

Multiple times, Desmond thought he had lost the darker wolf, disappearing into the shadow of one tree and popping out from another a few feet away. Hard to tell if his black fur was helping him blend in better, or some Assassin techniques had carried over to his other form. Regardless, Desmond felt lost. He had absolutely no idea as to which way they were going, where the farm was, town, nothing! Several times it felt like he was following Malik uphill, then downhill, then up again.

And they had yet to find Altaïr.

Desmond wasn't sure how they were going to anyway. They had practically been all over the damn mountain by now, and there had been no sign of the lighter colored wolf. It bothered Desmond that they couldn't find him, one did not just lose a fucking werewolf out here. But looking at Malik, he didn't seem so concerned. He just hobbled along without a care or second glance, like he really did know where he was going.

Suddenly, the black wolf perked up, head high, ears at an angle; something had his attention. Then he bolted, nearly flew over the ground while Desmond barely managed to start running after. It was like all weariness in the wold had vanished and he could run like the wind, despite missing half of one of his front legs. It just seemed impossible to run like that, but then again, werewolves themselves weren't supposed to be real. Probably why it was called the supernatural.

He barely managed to follow Malik through the trees until they reached open hillside. The area was bathed in moonlight and the unnatural glow of the full moon soaked over it. Here Malik finally slowed down, limping up to what looked like a pair of boulders at first glance, until one of them stood up. As Desmond approached, he could hear the whimpers and whines, watching as Malik and Altaïr rubbed against each other, licking at each other's muzzles. They had clearly missed each other.

The other "boulder" turned out to be a big, dead deer, one that even Desmond was sure that he could never haul around. Both wolves dropped their long lost lover act to tear at the deer, skin easily tearing away, bones snapping, and the true meat being gobbled up. Making a face, Desmond turned away from the scene, trying to ignore the sounds that seemed to echo around the clearing.

Instead, he focused on the small cluster of lights from far off in the distance. He could see Aperton from here, the town sitting down below them. No, actually, he could see _everything_ from here. The dark countryside seemed to extend on and on with no end. He saw no other towns or highways, nothing that would suggest any other sign of civilization. Just continuous, endless countryside and trees reaching out into oblivion. Now he could see why the Brotherhood moved the boys out here. Aside from Aperton, it was just nothing, nowhere, completely cut off and cast off into isolation. Perfect for Assassins turned werewolves to stay and roam free.

It was too easy to imagine just getting lost out here. Let the wolf side out, run and hunt forever. It was way too perfect, Desmond almost felt envious. Altaïr and Malik could stay out here for the rest of their lives and not have anything bother them. Virtually no one to give them orders, no one to answer to, just freedom. Almost freedom anyway. As nice as it sounded, they were still inflicted with terrible curses that dictated what they could and couldn't do with their lives.

_'Freedom always comes with a cost'_ he thought bitterly. Their condition, this werewolfism, it enhanced their lives, but also ruined it. Any envy he had vanished.

* * *

Desmond had no idea as to what time it was when the boys finally led him back home. The moon still shone bright, but it seemed lower in the sky than it did before. Full moon was coming to an end, and so were the reigns of the wolf. The boys marched Desmond up to the barn, pawing at the doors until he slid them open and slipped inside once he did. They flopped down wearily on the dusty mattresses strewn about. Desmond carefully lowered himself down to sit with them, the boys rolling over to lie against him once he did.

They curled up into tight balls, their breathing eventually evened out as sleep overcame them. Desmond, finally feeling like he could actually relax for the first time that night, idly carded his fingers through their fur. Their fur was soft, silky even, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and use them as pillows. Even asleep they were still very beautiful creatures.

Deadly, but still damn gorgeous. Desmond felt completely wiped out , it was a hell of a hike getting back, and the adventure Malik had taken him on was exhausting all on its own. How in the world did Connor deal with this every month? All year long?

He stared at the ceiling, fighting off sleep as light soon began to creep inside the darkened barn. And then he realized he wasn't petting fur anymore. Glancing down, his hands rested upon bare flesh. Altaïr and Malik had returned to normal without him realizing it.

And that was the end of his first full moon.

* * *

So after this there's only two more chapters in _this_ story.


	6. The Killing Moon

This one for sure is long because it felt long and I'm just terrible at keeping up with myself. But here it is, the last chapter for this story's Bad Moon storyline. There will be one more chapter after this, but it will be a flashback chapter that does not continue the current story. But I felt like I owed you guys that chapter, so after this one, that will come next. And then that will be the end of Bad Moon Hell Raisers. Talk more at the end, get to reading you guys.

* * *

So Desmond totally did not intend on playing bartender on Fourth of July. But with the amount of alcohol lying around he really couldn't help it. There was beer everywhere, and whiskey, and wine, and vodka, and scotch and he just…didn't stop himself from grabbing this and that and mixing it together. And when people found out he was doing that, oh man, it was just one big rush of pouring this into that, swirling together that and this, and just much alcohol and soda and jeez it wasn't even five o' clock yet and people were intent on getting their drink on.

He was having fun with it though, the people who came up to him were friendly and it was just a whirlwind of names and faces he would barely remember in the morning. And of course there was the constant questioning of how he knew such mad drink mixing skills, and against all judgement, he told them. Desmond simply explained over and over again about his days in New York as a bartender. Just, those days when he was nothing but a simple bartender. Back when he was pretending to be a model citizen and not some Assassin.

But that was another story all on its own.

At least his story was enough to sate everyone's curiosity, especially the cop who was constantly giving him and the boys a hard time just for merely existing. Or not really, the damn guy kept hanging about, walking past their spot every few minutes to give them the stink eye. Not like Malik and Altaïr gave a damn from where they were slouched against a park bench. And since they didn't care, Desmond didn't either. No need to raise dumb drama all because some gung-ho cop had an attitude problem. Desmond was just happy to be doing something normal for once, mixing drinks was a hell of a lot more relaxing than worrying about the two werewolves nearby.

The whole Fourth of July party itself was pretty damn fun. Everything was set up in the town park, the only place big enough to hold such an event. There was endless upon endless rows of tables and grills. The smell of cooked meat was constantly in the air. At the edge of it all, the fancy shmancy cannon of Altaïr and Malik. The real story behind that that, Revolutionary War replica, former property of an old, war history buff that had lived on the farm several years prior to the Brotherhood purchasing the property. The cannon, among various other guns, had been stored in the old coot's barn and had been left there, apparently forgotten.

When Altaïr and Malik moved in, they found the stash, cleaned it all up, put everything back together, and had themselves but new, loud toys. And since moving in, they started bringing the cannon back out for Independence Day. Not that they cared about the actual holiday. They had barely been living in America for almost six years now. They only bothered to show up to the whole shebang that was this party was to keep up appearances and for all the free food around. Desmond didn't blame them about the food part. The boys had purposely camped out a spot close to the grills for the opportunity to drool all over the constantly cooking meat in hopes that a piece would just drop into their mouth.

But until they turned into actual dogs and got under everyone's feet, they just sat on standby, twitching every now and again as they idly sipped from beer bottles. Now Desmond had been a tad wary of letting them drink, he knew full well the effects of alcohol, and that was something he didn't want to see happen to two hypersensitive werewolves. But Malik told him so long as they didn't drink _too_ much, they'd be find and not lost control. Alraïr went on to reassure him that the worst that'll happen to them was a massive hangover from hell.

Which was _exactly_ what Connor needed to come home too tomorrow. Sure, Connor had never warned him about giving them alcohol , not that he would have given Desmond's previous occupation. But it made sense to be drinking out here at a public party, where just about everyone had a Coors or a Budweiser in hand. The answer? Simple.

_Hide in plain sight._

Not that Altaïr or Malik looked particularly pleased by it. They were probably getting intoxicated by the smell alone, judging by the way they were holding their beers away from their faces as far away from their faces as possible. Hell, the whole party was just one big sensory overload. All these smells and sounds, all these warm bodies packed together. Desmond kept dreading the moment they would just snap and start to Change, to just go wolf and start tearing into people.

When he would glance over at them every now and again, they'd still be lounging on their bench, sometimes chatting up a neighbor or occasionally taking a sip of beer. They always looked fidgety to him, a tad nervous, uncomfortable. Yet somehow they managed to appear relatively calm, to anyone who wasn't trained to be as observant as Desmond was. It was during one of those times he was looking over at them when the call sounded across the park.

"Pie eating contest!"

Suddenly, an Altaïr was in front of him, shoving a warm beer bottle into his hand, then stalking off in the direction the voice came from.

"That time of year again already?" Malik moaned, popping up on Desmond's other side.

"I'm guessing this an annual occurrence" Desmond commented.

"Unfortunately, yes. Here, come watch and see" Malik said, sipping from his beer and leading Desmond through the tangled maze of benches and tables to the center of the park. There, a long table was set up stacked to the sky with lots and lots of motherfucking pie. Two other people sat at the table already. When Altaïr joined them, an excited chattering broke out through the gathering crowd as he slumped down in his seat. Apparently he was a fan favorite.

"Ah, out to win the gold again I see" someone said, and a second later, Rauf the martial art instructor appeared beside Desmond.

"I guess? But how does he keep from getting after eating all that pie?" Desmond asked, eyeing all the whipped cream that was just loaded atop all the baked goodness; that had to be a lactose intolerant's worst nightmare.

"Oh no, he usually gets very, very ill" Rauf replied with a shake of his head. "He'll be feeling it all night. Just goes to show that eagle and wold are not mean to share stomachs"

Rauf chuckled as Desmond's nearly popped out of his head as 'wolf' was mentioned. "What's wrong, Brother? Did no one tell you that you weren't alone out here?" the bearded man asked with a wink.

"Yes, we probably should have, but since the pup isn't… staying long anyway, there didn't seem to be a point in telling him" Malik piped up.

"Gee, thanks guys" Desmond muttered. Figured, soooo figured. Of course there was another Assassin in town that he didn't know about. Yes, he would be leaving as soon as Connor came back…But knowing he had some sort of back up would have been really really awesome, especially when they were only about a couple miles down the road. Desmond was about to ask Rauf a question when the call to let the contest begin rang.

Now, Desmond loved pie as much as the next guy and would never turn down an offer for some. But these guys were on a totally different level of "loving" pie. They were gorging themselves on it, bite after bite after bite. It was a big flurry of forks, whip cream, and pie tins. Had to wonder, where the fuck were they putting this all because Desmond didn't think their stomachs could handle it. Altaïr was easily the thinnest one at the table, yet he tore through those pies like paper. Where the other contestants were rushing to keep up with each other, Altaïr was easily knocking them out of the park.

But Desmond felt just as mesmerized as the crowd, watching as the stacks of pie dwindle and dwindle by Altaïr's hands alone. Eventually the other contestants just stopped eating whatever they had directly in front of them because other than that, there were no more pies left on the table. Someone shouted "Stop!" and everyone put their forks down.

_"Ladies and gentleman! This year's annual Pie Eating Contest winner is…Our reigning champion, Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad!"_

Said champion rose from his seat and threw his arms into the air, flexing them like he was a bodybuilder on the runway. And the crowd was cheering wildly, and Desmond clapped around the bottle in his hands, Rauf clapping along with him. Malik was the only one not cheering, or happy looking, or amused by any of it. He looked rather indifferent and unimpressed, idly taking a half sip from his own bottle of beer he wasn't actually drinking. As the crowd dispersed Altaïr swaggered over to them, looking incredibly smug as one could be with whip cream smeared all over their chin and shirt.

"Oh look, the _slob_ of the year saunters over to boast about how disgusting he is" Malik growled. "Wipe your damn mouth, you're in public for god's sake"

"Don't be such a grouch Malik. Excuse me for trying to have some fun" Altaïr teased, rolling his shoulder up to wipe his mouth along the sleeve. Desmond handed him his beer back afterwards.

"You're going to be sick as a dog any second now. You had your fun, great, fantastic. Can we go home now?" Mailk snapped, glancing at Desmond as he did. It was still light out, they had at least a couple more hours until sunset. "Come on pup, give me the keys to the truck. I'll bring it back later tonight, promise"

"Hah?" Desmond said, blinking at him. "You still drive?"

"Don't act so fucking surprised you little shit" Malik snarled, a bit of canine flashing and _oh jeez that looked suddenly bigger than it should have been_.

"Just trust him Desmond, you have nothing to worry about" Rauf spoke up, reassuring him. "Besides, I do not think you have much time left to decide on the matter" he added as he motioned towards Altaïr. Said Assassin was swaying where he stood, face pale, the hand which held his beer shaking visibly. He was just _boom_ sick, and without any more protest, Desmond dug out the keys from his pockets and traded them for Malik's beer.

"Just make sure he doesn't throw up. And don't crash into anything" Desmond said.

"Your confidence in me is soothing, pup. Have fun walking home tonight" Malik growled as he began to heard Altaïr across the park.

"But you said-"

"Changed my mind!"

And they were gone, leaving Desmond to stare after them in shock, mouth hanging open dumbly.

"I said trust him" Rauf repeated. "Not piss him off"

Well it was too late for that now wasn't it.

* * *

Mrs. Matilda Bugsby, Aperton native born and raised, made the absolute baby back ribs Desmond had ever had the pleasure of eating. It was long after the fireworks had gone off, all the families with kids had gone home already, and now all that was left were the die hard "It's not over 'till it's over" party goers were left. Grills were still going as everyone cooked up whatever sort of meat they had leftover, hence why so many people were still around. This was the advantage of a small ranching town. There was always plenty of food to go around. Ribs, burgers, pork chops, wings, legs, the works. Everyone left hanging around were wasily going home with armful of grilled goodness.

But Matilda Bugsby, oh sweet little Matilda Bugsby, made such amazing ribs. Desmond couldn't stop stuffing his face with them. The meat was savory, easy to chew, and by god her homemade BBQ sauce was to die for. He was sure his mouth had passed on to the next life and went straight to heaven. He went through his plate way too fast for his liking, but as soon as it disappeared, a new rack was laid across his plate and he was back to gorging himself.

Between demolishing the food before him and keeping an eye out for Malik (a very hopeful eye), Desmond was continuously greeted by numerous neighbors he didn't know the boys had (though they did keep mistaking him for Altaïr at first glance). They brought with them their own food and beer, and hung out with him while they all acquainted themselves. Time just seemed to whiz by as Desmond listened in on various gossip and he got to familiarize himself with the townsfolk. He didn't realize his ride home had arrived until someone greeted them for him.

"Ey, Connor! Grab a seat man, have a burger eh?"

Nearly choking on the rib he had been nibbling at, Desmond twisted around to see the survivalist behind him.

"Evening, Phil" Connor nodded back. "And uh, no thanks. Just here to get this bad boy home" he said, dropping a hand on Desmond's head to ruffle his short hair. Desmond squirmed under the hand, happy to see the other man but also incredible confused as to why the fuck he was here _now_ instead of tomorrow like planned.

But with a great reluctance, Desmond cleaned his spot up, shaking hands with his news friends and said his goodbyes. The journey back to the truck Connor had thankfully brought back (suggesting he had already gone to the house) was an almost hazardous one between carrying back armfuls of food many more neighbors kept bringing tho them as they made their away across the park. Just more names and faces Desmond probably wouldn't remember after tonight.

Once to the truck, it was just a matter of stashing the food on the seats while they hooked the cannon trailer to the truck. This took little time and they were on the road soon after. The truck cabin smelled heavenly, and the plates of tin-foiled wrapped food in Desmond's lap had his stomach screaming at him to just eat more, more, more, more! And he knew for a fact one of these plates held Matilda Bugsby's ribs and oh god that just made him want to get back home sooner and find it before the boys got to it.

"So Des, did we have an exciting time?" Connor asked him. "I mean, you just took care of _werewolves_ for almost a week, how do you feel about that?"

"Like it was the most fucking insane almost a week of my life" Desmond answered. "They're fucking insane. They're awesome too, so….fucking awesomely insane, yes that's what they are"

Which was true. They were absolutely insane and it was hard to tell if it was the wolf in them talking or not. But they were also really cool guys who really weren't as bad as they seemed. It was a totally different kind of experience that Desmond had ever experienced before working for the Assassin's. To him, he was like a cross between being a ragdoll to Altaïr and Malik, and then being some little kid to them. They'd treat him like crap, but then quickly start acting all happy and loving like they had never been upset before. Malik was still getting used to him, he could tell that much. But when Desmond wasn't saying or doing the wrong that pissed him off, Malik was pretty nice….When he wasn't being a big baby over something else at least.

Altaïr was a lot nicer at least. More playful, more bigheaded though and certainly filled out the "I'm the one in charge so I can do whatever I want" bill much to Malik's and Desmond's dislike. But he did like Desmond. Hell, just yesterday they went for a run, and then Altaïr had said he'd teach Desmond how to use a rifle in time for hunting season later in the year…If Desmond was around that long anyway. Frowning, Desmond turned to look out the window, the ever familiar signs against trespassing sliding by.

"What's with the long face?" Connor asked, quickly glancing at him from the driver's side.

"Hm? Nothing. Uh but hey, answer me this. When did you get home?" Desmond replied, hoping to distract him with another question, not wanting to think about his impending departure from Aperton.

"Huh well uh, surprise then. Got done early" Connor grinned. "Trail went cold, so they sent us home. And if they find anything else, they'll call me"

Which meant there was a good chance Connor would need another baby-sitter again, and then Desmond would be able to come back. But Desmond didn't want that. He didn't want to actually leave the more he thought about it.

"Okay" he nodded. "But wait…How'd you get here?"

"Got a ride. So hey, got another surprise for you. My ride? Still here. Oh, and he's your other cousin" Connor chuckled nervously, not looking all to pleased by it. Desmond let out an exaggerated moan cause _oh god no_. And seeing as how Malik was pissy and Altaïr was sick last he saw them, this was _not_ what they fucking needed right now. And sure enough when they pulled up to the farm, there was a cherry red Ferrari with eagle decals on the side parked right outside. Connor drove the truck past it more up to the barn where they could get the cannons inside easier. Desmond hopped out with the food when the truck finally stopped, heading to the house first to at least feed the boys before dealing with anything else tonight.

Inside, there he was, the great Italian Stallion loudly chattering away about this and that as he reclined amongst some pillows, talking way too fast for anyone to keep up with. Across from him, Malik looked ready to bash his face into the wall, and his jaw visibly kept tightening with every other word. A pale Altaïr was curled up in his lap, Malik's hand carefully carding through it. Desmond did have to admire Malik's restraint, because as much as Ezio was annoying him, he was at least keeping his temper in check for his mate's sake.

Both Malik and Altaïr perked up when Desmond and Connor walked in, actually showing signs of interest they didn't have before. Ezio managed to interrupt himself to greet them as they entered.

"Ah, Desmond, _cugino_! Long time no see, it's been to long!" Ezio laughed, hopping to his feet to wrap an arm around Desmond's shoulders in a half hug due to all the plates Desmond carried.

"Heeeeeey Ezio, yeah man, way too long" Desmond forced himself to smile. "But I just gotta uh, feed somebody first" he said, ducking out from Ezio's arm to properly sets the food down before the boys. Altaïr was sitting up now, still pale but looking all too eager to start tearing away at some food. In fact both of them looked like the hungry wolves that they were, eyes dead set on the plates, nostrils flaring. The plates were set before them, and within moments tin foil and plastic wrap was being ripped away, and Altaïr and Malik devoured the food in front of them. Just eating was good enough for Altaït to start feeling better, his skin gradually regaining color and he was now more lively and animated than he was when Desmond walked in.

Leaving the boys to their own devices, Connor pulled Desmond away to help bring the cannon back into the barn for the night, with Ezio oddly enough trailing behind them. Probably for the best, it was most likely somewhat difficult talking to a werewolf when he was stuffing himself with porkchops and ribs. But even more odd was that Ezio was actually very, very silent as Connor and Desmond rolled the cannon into its rightful place, didn't offer any help but remained a constant presence nonetheless. It wasn't until after Connor was back in the truck to go park it away from the barn did Ezio finally speak.

"So, Desmond, how soon do you think you'll be ready to go?" the Italian suddenly asked. Desmond blinked at him in confusion.

"Go?" he echoed. "Where am I going?"

"Home of course" Ezio said simply.

Desmond pointed at the cabin questioningly, there? The whole ten feet from them? "No, home as in, your home. Your mission is over"

Oh.

Desmond didn't say anything right away. He glanced back at the truck, wishing Connor would hurry the fuck up and get back here and do…something that would keep him here. He hadn't even really thought about it, actually leaving. It had been only a week and he was already used to the place, going anywhere just didn't seem to be an option. Especially with all the stuff he and Altaïr were planning to do, and…Well…..Being here was enough work on it's own and…He still had to…

Desmond could not think of a reason as to why he didn't want to leave, but he was shaking his head at Ezio.

"No thanks I'll pass" Desmond declined, taking a step away from his cousin. "I just so happen to like it here so…Go suck a dick" and he turned and hurried away to the house, ignoring Ezio's protests. He all but bolted through the door, slamming it shut behind him and went straight for the boys, stepping over discarded plates and squeezing himself between them. They hardly looked at him, only growling at him because he was limited their movement, but stopped when he sat down and stopped being such a nuisance to them.

Not that he needed them to pay attention to him right away, he knew how to get attention from them without saying anything. Knowing their behavior all to well at this point, Desmond flopped his head on Altaïr's shoulder, faking a sad sigh. Both Altaïr and Malik paused their actions, glancing away from their food to stare at him. They seemed frozen in place for several seconds until Altaïr craned his neck over to gently butt heads with Desmond. Desmond had to hide a smirk into the other man's shoulder, this was too perfect.

"What's wrong?" Altaïr asked him, rubbing his forehead against the top of Desmond's.

"Ezio says I have to leave" Desmond said.

"That's what I've been saying since you got here, pup" Malik teased. "How soon though?"

"Tonight or tomorrow. So really super soon" Desmond answered.

"And who says? Just Ezio?" Altaïr asked, and Desmond shrugged, he didn't stick around long enough to find out. But he could hear that little bit of concern in their voices, that "oh really?" in there. This was too easy.

"I don't wanna go, I like it here" Desmond whined. "I like it here with you guys. You're assholes, but you can be fun assholes too...We're pack, you know?"

Got 'em. Even if Desmond was still a bit iffy with the whole werewolf thing, he still knew how it worked with them. And as he had been told plenty of times, pack sticks together.

"You are just a puppy" Altaïr murmured.

"And no one is going to take care of you out there" Malik added. Glancing between both of them, Desmond could see they weren't...there per say. The looks in their eyes, the tenseness of their bodies. Their wolves were reacting to this too. Did their wolves realize that yes, someone in their pack could be leaving? Desmond thought back to when Connor had first left, how the boys tried to do everything in their power to keep him from going anywhere. Were they going to do the same to him?

"Desmond!" Ezio shouted, stomping into the cabin. Desmond shrank back, putting the boys between him and his Italian cousin, his work already done for the day. Altaïr and Malik sat up straighter, plates were set down, and they idly licked at the sauce and grease on their fingers as Ezio approached. Ezio paused at the sight of them, muttering a loud "shit". Desmond felt incredibly smug, having gotten himself behind the two higher forces of the cabin. If Ezio wanted to take him anywhere, he'd have to get through the boys first. Yup, kinda way too easy.

"Desmond, stop playing around" Ezio said carefully, noticeably staring off to the side to avoid getting into a staring match with the top predators in the room. Cause even Ezio knew what a bad idea that was, and it was working quite well in Desmond's favor. What, was he not expected to learn a little something-something while he was here?

"I'm not playing around, I'm really serious. I don't want to go anywhere. I think I'm gonna stay here" Desmond replied, lounging back into some pillows. "Why, are you going to make me leave?"

"And I'm being serious too. They told me just to bring you back as soon as I saw you. Connor's here, you don't have to stay anymore" Ezio said, glancing straight at him for a split second before looking away when Altaïr and Malik bristled at the action.

"Who needs him back that badly, hm Ezio?" Altaïr asked. Ezio didn't answer right away, his face straight, making it impossible to tell if he was uneasy or not about answering that.

"Bill wants him back at Black Hills" Ezio answered.

"No!" Desmond shouted, his heart staring to beat wildly. His dad, he could handle. But back to Black Hills? To _the Farm_? "Why? What's going on? Did something happen? Why do I need to go back?"

Now he felt like running for real. It had been years since Desmond had been at the Farm, he had so far managed to stay away from there ever since becoming an Assassin. Why would they need him back, why did they need him there? Had he done something wrong? Why, why, why?!

"Calm down Desmond" Connor said out of the blue, walking up towards them. Desmond hadn't even noticed him enter, he was panicking so much. "I'm sure there's a good reason. Right?" the survivalist continued, looking to Ezio. The Italian shrugged.

"That's all I was told. I'm sorry cugino, but you need to go" Ezio said. But Black Hills. But the Farm. No, what for? There had to be a reason, there was always a reason. It couldn't be because they missed him or anything, if they had really missed him they would have dragged him back there a long time ago. Why wait so long? Something had happened somewhere, that had to be it.

"I'm not going. You're gonna have to fucking drag me out if you want me gone so bad!" Desmond all but yelled, and oh god he felt so dizzy. He felt like he needed to run, just get out and go. The Farm, oh no no anywhere but there, oh no.

"You won't go anywhere" Malik reassured him. The boys had been so surprisingly quiet, Desmond has almost forgotten them in his panic. Hell, he had ran straight for them hoping they'd be the force fighting for him, not sitting here and turning into the furniture. "We didn't say you could go anywhere"

"What are you talking about?" Ezio asked the dark haired Syrian.

"We're the Masters in control of this outpost, you're not. Just because his mission doesn't mean he's dismissed, your orders or not. We still need him here" Malik explained.

"I mean, really, it's so much easier having someone else around with us" Altaïr added. "How about some new orders? They can all go fuck themselves, and we get to keep him for a little while longer, how about?"

"As nice as it sounds, I'm really supposed to bring him back, Altaïr" Ezio growled, now staring straight at Altaïr, the lighter haired Syrian staring right back at him. They were locked in place, the eagles in a silent match. Desmond kept glancing between them, watching the muscles in Altaïr's consistently flex and tense, amazed by the sheer willpower he was exerting to keep from letting wolf out a bit more than it already was, or keeping from pouncing Ezio where he stood.

"Let's talk outside, shall we? One Master to another?" Altaïr suggested. Ezio nodded, and he stood. "Be out in a second then" he said, Ezio nodding and making his retreat out the door.

"Don't hurt him" Connor warned.

"I won't. I still know how to talk like an actual person" Altaïr growled before stalking out the door after his cousin. Seconds later he was gone, and now there was just the three of them left in the cabin. Desmond's heart still pounded like mad, but the need to bolt was dying down at least.

"Desmond you need to calm yourself, you sound like a jackrabbit" Malik told him.

"Sorry" he apologized weakly. "But I don't want to go back. Please please can I stay here?"

"Well obviously I say you can" Malik snorted. "As does Altaïr. And Connor?"

"I...I don't think I can object to much at this point" Connor said. "I think I'm outvoted and underpowered to say anything against it"

"But what if they don't listen? What if they come to get me anyway?" Desmond asked.

"Then they better be prepared to keep some overprotective wolves" Connor answered him simply.

* * *

Altaïr crinkled his nose at the stench of oil and metal, the faint smell of cheap leather and the overall foreign smell of Ezio's car that had no place here in his territory. Even Desmond was losing his city scent, the smell of the country slowly masking the city. Becoming more wild, more free, more like the trees and of hay and the earth. A natural scent, unlike that of man-made objects. And the tint of pack, his pack, because Desmond was their pup. The pup, he was very unwilling to lose if his wolf had anything to say about it.

"Alright Ezio, let's cut the bullshit. The fuck is really going?" he snarled at his cousin. The Italian leaned against his car, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Altaïr, it's no longer safe for him to be here. A week in one place is a long time for him, he needs to be moved. Bill thinks it's safe for him to be set in Black Hills. They've been tightening their security over there like mad for years, Bill thinks it the place for him to be" Ezio confessed, frowning deeply as he did. Altaïr growled at the very mention of that place. Many, many years ago when he was still a teenager, he had been to it, the Farm. It was a prison hidden in the wild, and he could clearly remember the little boy he had met then. The little boy who had never met anyone outside of the Farm, who hardly had a clue as to what may lie just outside his front door. A little boy who was all too happy to finally have a friend.

And that little boy had eventually grown up and ran away from the Farm. Altaïr couldn't blame him. It was a dark hole in the ground that kept its occupants sealed in tight. That was at least seven years ago. And now was the time to shove Desmond back there? Like fuck. It wasn't just about keeping his pack together, oh no. It was about keeping Desmond out here, in the world where he belonged and not in the ground where he couldn't do or see anything. His panic earlier at the mere mention of the Farm was proof enough that he shouldn't go back at all.

"But _why_. What is going on? What's happening that no one is telling us, hm?" Altaïr asked.

"It's them. They've been busy. We've had agents keeping tabs on their New York base. And they've been super, super busy as of late. They're up to something, and their activity has only increased. As far as we know, Black Hills is not on their maps, and it's perhaps the safest place for him to be. There's plenty of room for him there to run around and get some exercise when he needs it. They'll even bring in fresh deer or rabbit for him to chase, and he'll have a warm place to curl up and-"

"What are you talking about Ezio? What is this shit?" Altaïr thundered. "Why are you talking about him like that?"

Ezio stared at him in shock and confusion. "You mean he's not infected?" the Italian gasped.

"Why would he be? Did you...Were you expecting that? You thought we'd bite him?" Altaïr demanded, hands curling fists and oh, he could already feel claws digging into his palms.

"Well to be incredibly honest at this point, yes. He was fully expected to be turned" Ezio admitted and very, very wisely bounced away from his car and start backing away from Altaïr.

"You'd think we'd do that to him? Were you also expect us to rip him limb from limb?" Altaïr snarled, feeling ready to do the same to the man before him. "Was this some big gamble? He turns or he dies, is that what you wanted?"

"Altaïr, Altaïr please! Calm down, keep it inside" Ezio attempted to sooth, but no, one did not simply try to sooth an enraged beast like so. His wolf was so close, it wanted out, to punish this intruder in his territory, for trespassing, for trying to break his pack, and for these _accusations_.

"No! You listen! I would never,_ ever_ do that to someone. How fucking dare you, and everyone else think that. We know better. Our wolves fucking know better. Do you think this is fun to us? It's fucking not. I don't know _why_ anyone would want to become _this_" Altaïr flashed his growing claws at his cousin. Those bastards back at HQ better get it through their thick skulls that Malik and I will never willingly, nor accidentally, ever, turn someone into one of us. I'd take a silver bullet to the head first then do that! Do you fucking understand me?"

Ezio nodded wordlessly. "Altaïr" Ezio whispered. "If anything, I am happy he's okay. I just didn't know what to expect"

"Get out of my territory Ezio. If I see you again it'll be too soon" Altaïr growled, turning to slam a fist into the back of Ezio's car. The alarm immediately went off, every loud wail driving itself into his brain, but he stalked away from it and ignored Ezio from that point on. He stomped past the house, someone, he didn't pay attention to who, ran out to see what the hell was going on. He wasn't focused enough to care. He was more focused on pulling his shirt off, wiggling his pants and boxers off, just needing to go, run, breathe, live.

A howl ripped itself from his throat, and he wasn't in control anymore.

_Now he was in control instead._

* * *

__So Bad Moon has a tumblr page now. You can find it at badmoonau. tumblr. com

There I will put graphics and soundtracks for the story, as well as but up updates for the story. I want to thank everyone so far for reading this story, for liking it and faving it and just being awesome. Come April (or May?), Bad Moon Hell Raisers (this story), and the series on its own will be a year old. It doesn't feel like it's been a year old, but it really has, wow! So an even bigger thanks to anyone who's been following the story since it was first posted. But you're all amazing. So keeps your hats on, we still have one more chapter left in this story, and Hell Raisers will come to end.

But the series, shall still go on.

Open Season hopefully starts soon (it was supposed to be posted about three weeks ago but nyeh)


	7. Monster

I felt like I owed you guys this chapter. It came out a bit shorter than planned, but I'm out of time to write it, and it's still good, and I like it, and now, I present to you, the last chapter of Bad Moon Hell Raisers. I have one warning; there will be blood. There will be a rather disturbing scene of blood and gore in this chapter. If you're not into that stuff, then this chapter is not for you. Don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

If anyone asked him about it, Altaïr would say no, he didn't remember the incident all that well. Just a fuzzy memory of blood and death, nothing more. In reality, he remembered that night very clearly. How could he forget when images of that time kept re-surfacing in his mind, in his dreams? Still frames that he could easily sketch down on paper, line for line, detail to detail, a perfect picture of horror that had happened. Happened to him, to Malik, to Kadar.

Almost four years ago it all went wrong. Altaïr could probably still find the exact spot where it happened, could still go back there and know who went down where, what was lying where, what happened in each spot. It happened in Malheur National Forest, nearest city was Canyon City, Oregon. Their apparent target was camping out in the Strawberry Mountain Wilderness, a place full of tall pines, rocky terrain and several lakes. A pretty good place to hide if you knew where to go. And a Templar was hanging out in there.

What for, didn't know, nor did Altaïr really care. He was just excited about the hunt, the thrill of the upcoming chase, to seek out his prey and ends its life. He had always been a bit wild, a bit bloodthirsty long before he became the true predator he never imagined could ever actually exist.

Malik kept telling him the whole way there not to get too excited, less his gigantic ego prevent him from getting his head through the door of the jeep. The only thing preventing Altaïr from personally ejecting Malik from his seat in the still moving vehicle was their seat belts, and the road full of hard rocks and dirt Kadar was driving them on.

The younger Al-Sayf brother had been an absolute saint for putting up with them if Altaïr recalled correctly. Kind Kadar could handle him and Malik together in large doses until their constant bickering and innuendos made him want to tear his hair out. To this day, Altaïr still wasn't sure how Kadar had tolerated them on that last mission. Either he understood how exciting it was to hunt down a Templar, or he was doing his best to not spill the beans on Altaïr's master plan.

Because Kadar was one of the few people who actually knew about Altaïr's and Malik's true relationship together. Knew how long they had been lovers, knew pretty much everything there was to know that they guarded so zealously (but Kadar was always a nosy little brother, so of course he knew). This also included Altaïr's grand plan of a marriage proposal to the elder Al-Sayf brother. A proposal that still, almost four years laters, had yet to happen. A secret that Kadar had taken to the grave, along with Altaïr's courage to ask. Four years almost, and Malik still didn't know.

There had been all sorts of things wrong with that mission in hindsight. Why three Assassins were needed for one Templar, who reportedly was alone with no one else with him. The location, despite it being government owned land, was rather remote. What in the world was a Templar doing out there for? But perhaps the one important detail no one had ever thought about; it was the night of full moon. All sorts of details no one seemed to think about until much, much later. So many things wrong, and no one seemed to care.

Kadar had finally driven far enough to where the road just about ended, and they could all hop out. They had a map of the forest, map of the camp the Templar had set, and guns. Really big guns. Altaïr didn't think a gun like an M-16 was needed for one guy, but who was he to argue? Standard issue, but it was fast, it was efficient, and it felt so _right_ in his hands. The only issue he had were the bullets given to them. They looked like M-16 bullets, fit into the clip like the right bullets, but they felt heavier.

(Then again, Altaïr had never held a silver before; why he needed them, the reason had never occurred to him.)

Radios were implemented, hidden blades were strapped on, handguns in holster, ammo, lights, trackers, _important things_. Everything they needed for one damned Templar. Really, all Altaïr thought he'd need at the time was one blade and one gun, and himself of course. Didn't think he needed anyone else. But he hadn't known what he was up against, and how not even a million of him could take this one particular Templar down.

"We'll split up" Altaïr had declared, tapping the map spread out over the hood of the jeep. "It's a big area, we'll cover more ground this way. Shoot him on sight, orders are to kill, take no prisoners. No problems, right?"

"Oh _no_, except we don't know what our big bad Templar has out there waiting for us" Malik said, both arms crossed over is chest. "What are we to expect out there? Traps? Hidden henchmen?"

"Maybe bears? And lions and tigers?" Kadar inquired jokingly, grinning at his own dumb joke when his brother shot a glare at him, but Altaïr couldn't help but smile back at him.

"This is no joke" Malik growled. "You two can have fun getting blown up while looking for animals that aren't there. I on the other hand, am actually going to do my job"

"Malik, loosen up" Altaïr said with a roll of his eyes. "As far as we know, he could be just sitting out there in the middle of the forest in his underwear all by himself. Can't you just be happy with that?"

"No" Malik snapped. "Sounds far too simple, too easy. It sounds more like a trap. We need to be cautious about this"

"It's just a fucking Templar, Malik. We've killed dozens of them already. Don't be a whiney bitch about it" Altaïr retorted. He nearly bit his tongue after he said that, Malik's dark eyes narrowing at him. His lover marched right up to him until they were face to face, breathing the same air. Altaïr was half tempted to punch the face in front of him, and half tempted to kiss it, maybe both.

"Don't be such an ignorant prick with his head up his ass then" Malik hissed at him. Without another word, he whirled around and marched off into the forest.

"Keep your line on!" Kadar called after his brother. The younger Al-Sayf glanced over at Altaïr. "You're an amazing flirt you know that?"

"Shut up" Altaïr grumbled, switching his line open and stomping off into the trees. Even still to this day Altaïr wished he had said things differently. Perhaps actually kissed Malik. Found him somewhere and just had just done _it_, ring in his possession or not. But how was he to know this would be the last time he saw both brothers like this? Because the next time he'd see them both would be under more unfortunate circumstances.

Despite the brightness of the sun, under the shade of the pines made the forest look darker than it should have been. Altaïr had no problem seeing though. He did keep an eye out for any traps or assailants, being cautious like Malik told him (and like how he had stupidly scoffed at). But for the longest time he got nothing but more trees. Every once in a while he thought he heard or saw something out of the corner of his eyes. But when he looked, there was nothing to be found.

He thought maybe there was an actual bear or maybe a cougar after him, but he didn't think an animal would take so long to try and pounce him. But if there was something after him, at least he could dispatch it easily. He had a gun after all, some animal had to be stupid to come and try to get him. But it was a tad odd enough to unsettle him.

Because he had noticed how quiet it was. There were no birds signing, or bugs buzzing. It was the middle of July, there should have been life everywhere. Like deer, or rabbits, squirrels or something. But no, not even that. Maybe it was the quiet getting to his head, making him think he was seeing things at the corners of his vision. But why was it so quiet? Where did all the life go? He was getting desperate for noise that he himself wasn't making. He switched his radio to the next line.

"Ey" Altaïr said aloud.

**"Yo"** Kadar's voice filtered into his ear.

"See anything yet?"

**"Nope"**

Altaïr sighed, stepping over a fallen log. "Same here"

**"Yeah what's up with that? I haven't seen or heard anything. Not a single damn thing"**

"Again, same here…I think anyway" Altaïr replied hesitantly. So it wasn't just him though, Kadar was having a similar experience as him.

**"You'd think there would be something"** Kadar grumbled. **"But so, how's that amazing proposal coming along? Malik seems like he would be **_**thrilled**_** to have it happen"**

"I don't even wanna think about it" Altaïr groaned,

**"Right, right, apologies first, proposals later"**

"What the fuck do I have to apologize for?"

**"For being a dick, you dick"**

"I am not!" Altaïr yelled loud enough for both Al-Sayf brothers to hear him wherever they may be. Silence answered him back, and a faint muffled voice came from his earpiece.

**"Ow, blow out my eardrum why don't you"** Kadar groused.

"My bad" Altaïr apologized.

**"And yes, you kinda are. Take this mission a little seriously, for him at least?"** Kadar asked.

"I can do that I guess"

**"Good. Now apologize to him. Jeez, I shouldn't have to hold your hand in your own relationship problems"**

"Yeah, thanks Kadar, goodbye" Altaïr grumbled, fiddling with the radio until he hit another line. "Malik, Can I-"

**"Still me Altaïr"** Kadar interrupted. Altaïr paused to stare down at the radio on his hip. How the fuck did he do that?

"Sorry" he mumbled", then played with the radio again. "Malik?"

**"Did you even bother to change lines?"**

Altaïr whined and fiddled with the radio again one last time, confident he'd get the right station this time. "Malik!"

**"And the third try wasn't the charm"**

"Kadar I'm going to beat your face in!" Altaïr snarled, tempted to rip the radio off his person and smash it into the ground.

**"Whaaaaaaat? Not my fault you can't work simple technology"**

Altaïr turned the radio off after that. He really fucking hated it.

[break]

Several hours later, Altaïr had still found nothing, heard nothing, or seen nothing. The sun had set, the forest had been plunged into darkness and yet not a single thing had happened since his failed attempt at trying to get into touch with Malik. He was just about ready to try again just for the sake of hearing something, It was rather unnerving walking out here alone in the dark like this. The pines were doing a fantastic job at blocking out any light, save for the patches of moonlight that managed to slip past the branches.

But Altaïr was starting to think there was nothing out here at all. He should have pumped into one of his teammates by now, or at that stupid Templar. Hell, his fake bear or cougar would have been welcome at this point. Yet, still nothing. Just him out here alone in the dark, and it really fucking sucked. With a great reluctance, Altaïr flipped his radio on and switched to the first line that clicked on.

"Kadar" he barked, noting how loud his voice was compared to the silence around him.

_"He's the other channel. Do you not know who's line is who?"_ Malik growled at him, and Altaïr stared angrily at a tree, huffing in frustration because finally!

"Actually you're the one I've been meaning to talk to all day" Altaïr said, feeling a little less lonely hearing his boyfriend's voice.

_"What do you want then?" And make it quick, I'm trying to work here unlike some people"_

"I'm sorry" Altaïr blurted out, and there seemed to be a pause on the line.

_"Pardon me, but what?"_ Malik asked, and damn him, Altaïr could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I'm sorry" Altaïr repeated. "I'm sorry for being an ass to you"

_"Glad you realize it too. And here I thought that ego of yours was getting in the way"_

"You're no better yourself there" Altaïr muttered under his breath.

_"But your apology is accepted. Now then, can I get back to work?"_ Malik asked,

"Hold on for a second. Have you seen anything yet?"

_"I might have"_

"Really? When? Where?" Altaïr fired his questions off a bit too excitedly.

_"Well not…Exactly. At least, I _think_ I saw something"_ Malik corrected.

"You too then" Altaïr sighed. Fantastic, this was happening to all of them.

_"At least it sounds like I'm not the only one. Kadar said he saw someone before sunset. Lost 'em though, and I haven't heard from him since"_

"Switch to line four then, let's get in touch with him"

_"Roger"_

Line four was an open channel between the three of them, allowing communication all at once. And it was the only channel Altaïr could switch to flawlessly. When he did switch over, Malik was already talking to the youngest of the three.

_"Kadar, do you copy?"_

_"Kadar, answer me dammit!"_

"Kadar, do you copy at all?"

**"Shhhh**" Kadar shushed them. **"I think I got something. I'm moving in, over"**

The line fell silent, the only sound was the faint noise of someone running and stopping, running and stopping. **"Goddammit"** Kadar eventually swore. **"i thought I had it, but it-SHIT"**

Gunfire crackled over the earpiece, and the booms echoes through the trees moment later. Now Altaïr was the one running. "Kadar, where are you?" Altaïr yelled, heading in the direction of the sound of gunfire came from. The answer was more cursing and the chattering of Kadar's rifle going off.

**"It was right there you guys, oh my god it was so fast I can't believe it! I missed it, it was that fast oh my god"** Kadar cried, his ragged breaths could be heard clearly.

"Kadar what are you fighting?" Altaïr demanded to know.

**"I don't know, but it's fast and I could use some backup like, right **_**fucking now**_**"**

_"On our way"_ Malik said. Altaïr was still running, glancing around for either of the Al-Says, the Templar, or whatever it was giving Kadar a hard time. At the time, Altaïr couldn't imagine anything too fast for an Assassin to keep up with, anything too strong or too powerful. Nothing could beat an Assassin. But after tonight, he would learn that there was indeed something out there bigger and badder than them.

There was more swearing over the earpiece, more shots ringing out through the trees and then…A bone chilling howl that made Altaïr freeze in his tracks. That was a wolf howl. A very, scary wolf howl. One that rang clear over the earpiece and echoed through the trees. No one ever told them there were _wolves_ out here. Was that what Kadar was being attacked by? A damn wolf?

**"Holy shit!"** Kadar shouted, shooting off more rounds. **"I can't even hit it oh my god. I cant'-FUCKING HELL"**

This, both Altaïr and Malik would never forget hearing. The sounds that would haunt their nightmares for years to come. The sound of Kadar hitting the ground, horrible snarling and growling. The sound of something tearing. Kadar's screams of pain and terror. Hearing the ripping of clothing, then skin, and then the wet squelch of blood. And still so much screaming. Altaïr had to lean against a tree and hold his stomach with one hand, and cover his mouth with the other. Something being torn apart and the screaming, my god the screaming, to this day he could still hear the screams.

And then absolute silence. Kadar's screams just cut off like his radio went dead, except Altaïr could still hear the static. Altaïr remained huddled against the tree, willing the churning in his stomach go away. Kadar…No Kadar had to be fine. He wasn't…Altaïr pushed himself away from the tree, taking a deep breath and sluggishly continuing on. Yes he was an Assassin. Yes he killed people all the time. But never had he heard something so gruesome. And he still didn't know if Kadar was alright or not. Just…keep moving. Keep moving. Keep going. Find Kadar. Just do that.

"Altaïr" Malik said, and it wasn't from the earpiece this time. Malik had finally caught up to him. Utterly relieved, Altaïr crashed into his boyfriend with a hug, holding him tight because thank god Malik was okay at least. "Altaïr" Malik repeated. "Have you seen…Did you find…What was..."

"No, no, and no" Altaïr answered with a shake of his head. "But hey, hey listen to me" he said, resting his forehead against Malik's. "We'll find him, okay? He's going to be fine"

Malik did not look convinced, but nodded anyway. Altaïr gently let him go, and they set off together, rifles at the ready. Whatever it was that had gone after Kadar was still out there. And Altaïr would _not_ let it get to Malik too. Nothing was going to stop him from protecting the man he loved to hell and back.

(This Altaïr still beat himself over about because he still failed in the end to do just that.)

The rest of the trek through the trees was quiet and nerve wracking. Their light was limited, it was hard to see where they were going, and aside from their own shuffling through the grass and their own breathing, it was still incredibly quiet. Kadar's mysterious attacker was keeping its distance, or it didn't know they were there yet. That Altair highly doubted, remembering how earlier that day he could have sworn something was out there with him. And now there was, but it hadn't attacked him before, and hadn't attacked Malik either when it was watching him. So why attack Kadar now? Because it was dark and easier to sneak up on him? Clever, but dangerous. It could be with them at that moment, just watching, waiting for them to split up so it could attack better.

"Got something" Malik spoke up. A light was flicked on, Malik had his flashlight trained on the ground. Looking down, Altair could see them, spent bullet casings twinkling up at him. Altair dug his own flashlight out, flicking it on and examining the area around them. Trees were riddled with holes, the only thing Kadar had managed to shoot instead of his attacker. Or perhaps not...there was a dark splotch on the ground there. And it wasn't just more grass. _Blood._ Maybe Kadar hit it after all and didn't realize it. Yes, yes that was it. It had to be.

"Shit" Altair cursed as he nearly slipped. "Watch your step, grass is wet over here too"

"More blood" Malik confirmed, and looking down, yes, there was more blood. A lot more. A trail of it zigzagging across the grass. The amount of it increased as they went along until they came to a rock in the path. No, not a rock. It was too slimy and...and.._It wasn't a rock._ Altair gulped, moving the light along until...Until they found Kadar. Or what was left of him. Altair dropped his flashlight, Malik's light and rifle clattering to the ground. The moon chose now to move above the trees to shine down them, casting Kadat's body in a rather ghostly light.

His arms were shredded, suggesting he had tried to protect himself from the attack that way, clothing and skin hanging off his arm. His stomach had been ripped open, his entrails were pulled out and were draped over his legs. His sightless stared down at his body, his head cracked at an angle, and his throat spilling out over his shoulders. Malik felt to his knees before his little brother, staring at with wide, disbelieving eyes. Altair...had to turn away to empty out his stomach. Never, in his entire Assassin career, had he ever see such a sight. There was killing, there was murder, and then there was slaughter. No _human_ would do this, would they? Was it that Templar? It had to have been!

"Malik" Altair said, spitting at the ground before turning back to his love. "Malik, we...we're going to find who did this. We're going to find them, and make them pay, I swear to god we will"

Malik said nothing, just slowly turned his head to stare up at Altair. His heart ached for him, his love looked like he was on the verge of losing it, but Malik was strong. The time for mourning would come later, surely Malik understood that. They had a killer to take care of first. "We'll find them" he said, resting a hand on Malik's shoulder and squeezing. Malik growled at him in reply. No, Malik had not growled. Malik was staring at him with wide eyes, but he had made no noise. The growling persisted from _behind_ them. Whirling around, they did find their comrade's attacker.

A wolf. A big, big wolf. But there wasn't supposed to be any wolves here, at all. The wolf dropped something from its mouth, the object dropping to the ground with a wet slap. And here, is where things got fuzzy, where everything began to lose sense. Altair remembered pointing his rifle at it, remembered firing, remembering missing because yes, it did move fast. But his perception, his movements and thoughts seemed to slow down. It charged at him, and he couldn't move. The beast only missed because Malik had knocked him out of the way. He remembered hitting the ground, remembered hearing the beast tackle Malik. Malik's cries, oh god he'd never forget hearing him cry, his screams.

And he still remembered barely being able to move. Just barely managing to lift his rifle, pumping off rounds at an agonizingly slow pace. Remembered seeing them slam into the wolf, and then...God it was his fault.

The wolf tore off Malik's arm as it was slammed to the ground. If they had been using regular bullets, then perhaps Malik's arm would have been saved. But silver...silver bullets did so much more damage. It would take weeks for Altair to get over the fact that it was his fault Malik lost his arm. Even today he still looked at the remaining stump and felt the guilt of being responsible for it. He could still hear that last scream from Malik.

The wolf had miraculously stood up. Blood was pouring from its side, but it got to its feet and launched itself at Altair. His gun was knocked away from hands, he still couldn't move to protect himself. The wolf tore his throat out. And then left him. It hacked up more blood all over him, but limped away to let him bleed out. It had happened so fast, in mere seconds. To Altair, the attack lasted forever. He was left there to die under the light of the full moon. He could hear Malik whimpering pathetically in pain, and he couldn't even move to get up and go to his aide. His body felt heavy. Too, too heavy. He tried calling out, but more blood bubbled from his wound. And why, why couldn't he move?

Altair could only stare helplessly at sky, at the moon looking down at them. He was helpless. He was dying. They were dying. They would be with Kadar soon. Mauled by a wolf. And still no Templar. Oh Allah...Help them. Someone, anyone would have been welcome. Altair didn't believe in higher powers but anything to save them would work. Anything at all.

Here Altair remembered fading into darkness, but the moon...the moon was still there. And there was...a woman's laugh. And he couldn't remember much else after that.

* * *

Thank you all for reading and following Bad Moon Hell Raisers. The Bad Moon series will continue in its next story, Open Season, coming soon. It will pick up a few months after Bad Moon, and will continue with the story of Desmond living the pack life with Altair, Malik, and Connor. It will continue the storyline, and will also feature many flashbacks that will answer, many, many questions. Thanks a lot you guys, you're all awesome.

Safety and peace.


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